#YOU'RE ALL COOKING SO MUCH

[hunniegl4zed]

Oh man, those designs are more than what I could’ve come up with. I’ve never seen Scourge look so deteriorated before. 

Like you would not believe the whiplash I got from the transition Phase 3 to Phase 4, talk to meeeee, what happened to the poor boy, what was the push that led to further physical harm??? I need to know his thought process before withering under Super Scourge’s control entirely! (I WOULD HATE FOR THAT THING TO BE MY SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON, I HEADCANON HE SOMETIMES ADJUSTS HIS HEIGHT LIKE A SHADOW JUST TO FUCK WITH YOU LMFAOOO) 

Looking at base Scourge to the very end of his phases I was like oh you can breathe, you can blink, you can cry but say goodbye to yourself, by the end of this au you’ll be a changed man. 

Ahh, you just delivered on the horror aspect so so well.

 (Also yay Patch’s got a good chance of living through his life well even if he’s got questions about it and it took years to finally brush his quills. additional question: based on shiny’s first post about patch, would he still hate the color purple?)

Also shoutout to Realm once again for whipping up the life reversion idea and potion purification method, BECAUSE HE BLOODY NEEDS IT!  🗣️🗣️

**I now believe if some methods were used such as the “mind crush” one, Scourge/Patch would need the wheelchair for a good while as part of his recovery process. Going through something like that would fuck you physically up for sure even with chaos healing involved. He’ll be fine but for now he’s just burnt out and doesn’t talk much.

Yessssss, big about out to @hevexns-realm for always bringing up her A-Game with writing 😫💕💕🙏🙏 Realm, you're always know how to create bangers with words and swing my motivation and inspiration right back at it 💪💪❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Well, my boy's thoughts before he got under Super Scourge control are confusing to him as well. Dude just got brought back to life and no one wants to believe him. In the beginning he's just thinking people are pulling pranks on him or that he's used to not being taken seriously by anyone else. The longer the stuff goes on, the more he believes the world is against him and the world should pay for it (Going from the idea another Anon did as well~)

He goes on with his promise and takes care of Moebius, leaving death within his wake. Until he's burned out and somehow ends up in Sonic's world. Clearly traumatized from the stuff he did pull off (killing his father ect.), the whispers of Super slowly start getting into his mind. His harm starts when the whispers starts since he also carries a sense of guilt with him. He starts doubting himself, thinking if all that rampage was for a good thing. Only for Super Scourge to egg him on, to tell him that what he did was right. Purple spots would start to appear on his body and it frightens him, causing the harm we see in the designs. But once it starts, there's no way of going back. It gotten so worse at the end that he takes off his own arm to see if he's sleeping or not and to take "Super away from his body."

When you hear the same thing over and over again everyday, at some point you will start to believe the voice inside your head. The whispers turning to screaming making it unable to deny anymore. At his weakest and most broken moment, Super takes hold :3

My writing isn't the best so might change a few things along the way 🤣✨️

AND HECC YES, SUPER SCOURGE CAN CHANGE ANYTHING HE WANTS FROM HIS BODY. He wants to be able to give maximum trauma and pain. He can take ANY kind of form. Even from other people 👀

Patch and the color purple are no friends indeed. That boiio is traumatized by it, but weirdly also fascinated about it. When Mephiles shows him the power of Dark Chaos energy, Patch would be scared at first since it does have a purple glow.

Also, when Patch gets older, especially in his teenage years, he will get visits from his big friend in his head 💀 The others better take notes on that one.

Scourge/Patch's recovery would be harsh, long and painfull when "Mind Crush" would be used against him. He basically needs to re-learn basic skills as well and mental help cause, although it saved them and made them getting loose from Super, the damage would already be done.

Thank you so so so much for all the compliments as well and for being so hyped about the AU 😭💜💜💚💚💙🙏🙏🙏 Sp honored to share and create this AU with all of you 🥹🫶💕💕💕

[hayaku14]

IDK WTF THIS CARD GAME IS ABOUT BUT I NEED IT IMMEDIATELY

[devotionconsumed]

sick to my stomach thinking about how rin and nezha are your best american girl coded......

[transmechanicus]

Really fucked up that two ppl can care about each other and make their best efforts to communicate and still end up hurting each other so badly they cannot stand to be in the same room.

[autistrix]

[https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/50571993] Northern Pygmy-Owl || Glaucidium gnoma Observed in Canada Vulnerable in location of observation

"The two shots were taken less than a minute apart. I'd never seen a pygmy-owl do this before.. It had been in a relaxed posture, then, once a nearby chickadee appeared to notice it and started making a fuss, it compressed its feathers and stretched out, also raising the feathers above the eyes (first picture) than shortly after began to relax again, returning to a more usual pose (2nd picture). It was a pretty impressive transformation!"

[sysig]

Scriabin and Edgar eating crepes for requestober !!

Day 8 - Delicious silence

[yesmissnyx]

This Valentine's day sucked 😔🤘

[fisheito]

my princess nonsense is being encouraged watch ouyt imabout to be eneaabled

OK WHATF ATHAT'S SO CUTE I HAD TO MAKE IT i know realistically there's little to no chance that rei DOESN'T know how to work heels 🤣 BUT IMAGINE.....ING.... YAKUMO GENTLY GUIDING REI IN HEELS, WEEKS BEFORE THE BIG GALA AND HAVING NONE OF HIS NORMAL FEAR OF PHYSICAL TOUCH BC HIS [TEACHER MODE] IS OVERRIDING HIS INSECURITY

[phoenixcatch7]

We could make Sqq a transformer in his past life. Like optimus prime sorta transformer. Cybertronian.

He'd be the only surviving seeker (winged guy) on the autobots side (I don't know all the canons but I don't think they have, like, any). Pretty young when the war started - unfathomably ancient for humans, the kiddie of the group to them.

And he arrives on earth. Discovers the Internet. Immediately gets hooked on critiquing stupid Web novels in every language, which being a sentient machine he can do at great speed without forgetting anything. Decides to read the final chapter during a battle because he's so close to the end and airplane had better pull SOMETHING good. Is so infuriated (distracted) by the ending he messes up and immediately gets killed by some low level decepticon. After FIVE MILLION years of war he gets offed by some loser over a stupid human story that wasn't even very good. He dies SO furious.

And then he gets reborn a human.

He is, as the kids say, big mad.

How by Primus do they do anything??

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

examining your relationship with your art can be fun

but watch out

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

Into You - Ariana Grande

[starchildghost]

every word I say is kindling (but the smoke clears when you're around) - a Laudna/Imogen au, chapter 3/3: may your peace walk on with you for a while. also on ao3.

/

It takes time - longer than you had thought, so much so that you grow a bit fearful, a decidedly mortal emotion you had thought deadened inside of you - for either of them to notice.

It’s Laudna, of course, who does first. Her threads are all blue and the once-black of Delilah that chokes her; red is a color she hasn’t associated with since the last of it bled out of Matilda’s hands as she wrenched herself from the Sun Tree. It’s natural that she’s startled by the wave of red that hits her - red tether, red moon, red fury, red end. She’s used to only two voices in her head (three, if you count her ratbird) - she startles at the new, overwhelming one.

Startles, and feels revulsion creep in. You have put so much on the woman’s shoulders; she grows tired of it. Tired of fate.

Laudna, still biding her time on her airship, does not react to the affront on her consciousness; she waits for whatever lies on the other side to make its move.

/ 

Imogen’s dwellings within her mother’s domain aren’t humble by any means; she is a Temult, their savior, and her abode must reflect that. The Ruby Vanguard, however, dealing in secrets and keeping themselves from drawing too much attention, doesn’t allow for too much luxury. Imogen did have herself a rare luxury amongst them: a mirror in her private chambers, an object usually reserved for group areas. Mirrors are fragile and difficult to obtain, so far from bustling markets and the prying eyes of the commonfolk - it’s only because she’s a Temult that she’s been allowed one of her own.

Imogen’s attitude towards it shifted as she did - her purple sparks were beautiful - her itching skin that cracked apart with that same pulsing power was hideous - the hair that damns her, marks her as a Temult, makes her look so much like Liliana is horrific, and so is the mirror.

On this occasion, however, the mirror is a curiosity. Imogen rises for her morning tasks and nearly misses it - has no reason to linger on the mirror and so she doesn’t, until something catches the corner of her eye.

A portion of the mirror is much darker than any part of her own room is - it’s not a reflection at all, but a look at something.

At someone.

A woman sits curled up amongst some crates, using magic to propel a tiny husk of a rat (with a bird’s skull) along in front of her. She is speaking - or perhaps singing? - to herself, to the corpse, Imogen can’t hear. The scene is dark, and the woman and her magic are too, other than her deathly pale skin. “Hello?” Imogen asks aloud, stretching her hand towards the mirror before she can think of anything more logical to do.

The woman looks up, alarmed, and- the connection cuts out, leaving Imogen’s hand to touch its own reflection instead.

But Imogen Temult has more than one way to communicate. Who are you? She thinks, her eyes boring holes into the mirror, seeking the woman she’s sure she didn’t invent.

There is no response, and the only thoughts for Imogen to read are the buzzing drivel from the Ruby Vanguard.

The days pass like this, at first - a reflection of a woman she can’t reach in the mirror - a dead rat with a bird’s skull dancing in the reflection of a puddle - a song in a woman’s voice whose melody shakes her soul but whose words she can’t quite make out.

For the first time in many years, Imogen Temult feels excitement. She tells no one - she has always been told she’s been destined for important things and that others won’t understand, and she’s decided that “others” includes the Ruby Vanguard as well as the commonfolk. Liliana, well, Liliana just seems glad that Imogen returned back to the encampment, and largely leaves her alone to chase wisps of a woman who might not exist.

If it’s her psyche breaking, well, Imogen’s just glad it’s happening in a way that can make her happy.

For her part, the woman doesn’t seem surprised to see her after that first morning. Imogen doesn’t see her smile often, unless the rat is at the forefront of her attention, but her expression when she’s alone seems to always be calculating, judging. Imogen’s certain that the woman is sizing her up - which must mean their connection goes both ways.

The Ruby Vanguard does not have an extensive library, and what they have does not mention you. You are, after all, the opposite of what they strive for. Imogen devours every book, every manuscript, every scrap of information she can get her hands on (or her mind into), but nothing conclusively leads her towards what this connection might actually be.

It matters not; she knows she hasn’t reached a dead end, because she sees the woman more and more frequently, a ghost in her vision as your tether truly takes root. It’s so taut neither can move in a way that matters without the other feeling it, and Imogen, so used to tuning others out, is extremely aware of the other woman’s presence.

Where she showed to Laudna as a wall of red, red, red, Laudna’s presence in Imogen’s mind is much softer; she is a symphony without words, a gentle and soothing lullaby against the buzzing and droning that other people’s minds fill Imogen up with.

Imogen reaches her mind out to that music constantly, but has yet to receive any response.

Until, that is, Laudna softens. It isn’t intentional on the warlock’s nor her patron’s end; rather, the two are caught - literally - sleeping. It’s unclear to Laudna and to yourself, really, just how entwined Delilah’s consciousness is with hers - perhaps Delilah knew Imogen was coming and allowed her to see, or Laudna’s exhaustion became her patron’s and they were equally powerless in the face of this new bond.

Imogen began her day as had become customary to her - she reached her mind along the tether, aching to see the woman she’s decided means her destiny is taking hold - and, to her surprise, her whole world jolts into that cramped, dark storage space she’d seen that first day.

The woman is not alone.

It’s not the dead ratbird, who rests on her lap, clearly drifted from her grasp as she fell asleep. No - Imogen sees a shadow on the woman that she hasn’t been able to before.

The woman leans against a dark, wooden wall, and by all rights there shouldn’t be a shadow at all - it’s not bright enough where she is. Nonetheless, a much bigger woman is outlined behind her - Imogen can’t glean too much from only a silhouette, but as her eyes frantically take in the scene (already she feels her grasp on the tether slipping, already she knows she will be forced away) they can’t help but trail to where the shadow’s hands seem to rest - dark fingers compressing around the woman’s throat even as she begins to shake out of her slumber.

“Hello,” she rasps, meeting Imogen’s gaze with a crooked smile, seemingly amused at what she sees (Imogen can only imagine what face she must be making - any attempt to fix her expression proves futile, however: a messiah is not trained in how to school her expression) as she just tips into alertness. The storage space is already fading around Imogen, dark wood and crates giving way to sunlight streaming through a window, but Imogen can just make out the woman’s next words- “I think we’re each other’s fates.”

/ 

Things spiral from there, just as you hoped they would. Imogen has begun to realize that you have taken the thread of her fate in your hands and twisted it from her - you have wrenched what Liliana had created for her and twisted, twisted, twisted, reshaped it into something else.

It’s little things, adding up to make a clear picture in Imogen’s mind. A member of the Ruby Vanguard reaches out to stop her, thoughtlessly, forgetting those whom she touches burn - and when their hand reaches her shoulder they remember to flinch away but not before making the briefest of contact - it should have run them through, would have done so just a week before, but instead it’s the briefest zap. Imogen hears the sound, continues pushing through to her mother. It’s the buzzing of the thoughts of the Ruby Vanguard - she pushes them away, sometimes physically pushes them away, gives herself space; finds she can’t compel them anymore, her feelings to them merely a whispered suggestion now.

The Vanguard accept this with reverence; their messiah is settling in, affirming herself to their purpose. She isn’t the child they had grown to fear; no, she returns their love, look at how she’s begun to care for them.

Imogen thinks her spark has begun to dim, and she knows just who to blame.

 /

In the end, Imogen Temult and Laudna meet just the once. Imogen stands at the edge of her world, looking at the mountain that makes up her horizon, and she feels the approach of that symphony that’s been drowning out her powers since the other woman opened up to their connection.

She should be seething, she thinks. She should muster so much of the storm that the woman will fry where she stands. The world of the Ruby Vanguard should be marked by two graves struck by lightning; she, their messiah, should facilitate it.

Instead, she stands in the middle of the destruction she had wrought not too long ago, a circle of crisp, dead plants, in a field full of flowers blowing in a breeze, and she watches the approach of the woman whose shadow eclipses more of the world than it has any right to.

“It’s you,” Imogen can’t speak above a whisper, finds herself choked up by the woman’s presence - afraid of what it means. Imogen had spent years crippling anyone who approached, spent years crippled herself by their presence - this woman brings only music with her. There’s no headache on either side, no words to drown out.

“It is.” Laudna agrees. She isn’t afraid. She smiles at Imogen, and there are more teeth in that smile than Imogen has ever seen before. Laudna ghosts her hand over Imogen’s cheekbone; there is no electricity to stop her. Imogen has never had someone so close to her, and her breath catches.

Imogen wishes she could immolate her on the spot; she knows she could not draw the power to do so even if she wished to. Laudna’s eyes twinkle.

“Why did you do this?” Imogen asks even as she leans into the other woman’s touch. “Why are you interrupting my destiny?”

“Destiny?” She echoes, with a laugh. “Sweet girl, it was no more your destiny to bring about the apocalypse than it is mine to be the hero. People should be kinder than the gods that eat them. We are both vessels for people much worse than us. The difference,” she angles her face down towards Imogen’s, whispers has if telling her a secret, “is that I’ve come to the conclusion I can empty you of yours.”

Imogen tenses and reaches for Laudna’s chest, bunches the fabric of her dress in her fists, unsure what she even intends to do. Laudna’s hands close around her wrists. “Is that such a bad thing?” Laudna rasps, her whisper barely coming out around her broken vocal chords, head tilted toward Imogen but cocked on the angle that was the end of Matilda. “Why should the godeater’s outcomes for you be natural, and the path you forge on your own obscene?” Her grip tightens, and Imogen wills her power forward, taking the effort to muster up what was once unavoidable for her, sparks flying through her cracked skin into the other woman. Laudna continues speaking as if she doesn’t feel a thing, ranting at her patron, at Imogen’s, at you - “Do you intend to let them have every part of you, Imogen Temult? To take all that was good and all that was rotten and every ounce of potential in you and eat you up? To let them keep whispering to you that you’re right on the verge of realizing something, gaining something real and true, walking on a path that is not yours and that you did not choose, a baited fucking lure to a godsdamned noose-” she releases Imogen’s wrists, turns away from the woman, looks towards the heavens, screams to Delilah, to you, to Predathos, any who may hear - “doesn’t that make you ashamed? To scavenge off our lives, when they’re all we have?”

Her chest heaves with the effort of shouting, and she slowly turns towards Imogen, who had reached for her once more. Imogen’s fingers, still glowing with the pulsing power that marked her as a savior, lightly skim over the dead woman’s jaw. Imogen Temult, who had long since thought she would never be able to be close to another human being, leans into the woman whom she cannot shock, and before she can stop to think, she kisses her.

Laudna is not fast to react, but when she does, it is with need, with hunger that has defined her existence. She deepens the kiss, nibbles at Imogen’s bottom lip. They both feel a click, a sense of belonging that they’d wanted their whole lives, and then - it ends.

They stand together, Imogen’s head against Laudna’s still chest, taking in the flowers and the breeze, separate from either of their worlds, on the cusp of something new, until Imogen, a savior who knows she can no longer do any saving, a messiah who was not raised to know patience, has to ask: “Why are you here? Really, why are you here?”

Laudna doesn’t move, doesn’t turn her gaze to the other woman. “I’m going to kill your mother and burn this fucking cult to the ground.”

“Why?”

“Because the woman in my head wants to use their power to her own ends, and I cannot allow that. As long as they live, she will use me to reach for them, for the power they’ve amassed here, and it is my lot in my unlife to keep her with me and stop her from entering your world. I do what I must.” Laudna states it all, matter-of-fact, having thought about it for as long as she’s known they existed.

“If she… uses you to reach for it, how are you stopping her now?”

Laudna finally looks at Imogen, her mouth opening into a crooked smile made more crooked by the bend in her neck. “She thinks she’s all-powerful, but I absorb power for the both of us, not just for her. I am not her dog eating table scraps. I have my tricks, and when Delilah awakes again, I’ll simply tell her there was infighting in the cult, and Liliana Temult and their little moon beacon didn’t survive the fight.” There’s mirth dancing in her eyes.

Imogen absorbs this all, thinks of the broken people who come to her mother out of desperation, not out of desire for the red end. Knows that she no longer possesses the power to unleash the storm on the world even if she had ever wanted to - feels Laudna’s thoughts but cannot read them. “Will you - will you let them run, if they want to?”

“Oh, most of them will run, I expect. I won’t stop them. Unless you want me to?” For the first time, Imogen’s opinion seems to matter to her.

“No, I… no, let them go, if you can.”

Laudna nods, begins to walk towards the encampment, leaving Imogen behind in the ring of dead plants. “Wait!” Laudna stops, turns towards Imogen. “What will I do?”

A small, genuine smile from the dead woman. “Your path will be your own.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Laudna stills, looks towards the sky and squints before locking eyes with Imogen. “Sweet girl. There is a whole world. Pray that you don’t.” She turns, again, to walk towards the death and blood you have always intended for her, and then stops, and smiles again at Imogen. “May your peace find you on a lonely road, Imogen Temult.”

Laudna makes her way towards the encampment of the Ruby Vanguard. She does not turn back. Imogen looks toward the mountain - the edge of her world so long as she has lived, and she begins to walk.

[tbh-entp]

It's moments like me saying something hilariously false to a guy who I'm dating in an effort to get him to argue with me that I realize.. this wild Ne is chaos at night

[my-ultimate-is-ready]

from the prompt meme (if you're still doing it ofc) “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." w Reyes 😈

Gabriel’s back from god-knows-where for god-also-only-knows-how-long, a pause in his suffocating schedule allowing him to spend a few luxurious days at home, so you can live like all the couples around you do. High on your priority list is doing all the laundry your washing machine can handle, catching up on all your favourite shows you swore you wouldn’t watch while he was away, and making dinner together. 

At some point in this unadorned normality, you’ve also got to go grocery shopping, and while it’s not the most riveting of things you can do together, it’s significantly less of a chore with him there. It takes inordinate amounts of fuel to keep him running; SEP created a super soldier with a super appetite. So, with Gabriel home and the fridge pitifully empty, it’s a non-negotiable addition to your day.

But what a joy it is to feel halfway ordinary, defaulting to your routine that gets interrupted every other week when he becomes a mere voice over the phone or a few lines of text in a written message. 

When he’s home, you live slowly—one day at a time.

Out of necessity, Gabriel’s efficiency is unparalleled. It doesn’t matter how organized you are when he is a master at packing and planning. It’s thanks to him that you’ve never set foot into a store without your reusable bags, and it is also thanks to him that unloading the groceries from the car to the kitchen takes a single trip.

Is any sight more touchingly domestic than him hauling several massive blue IKEA bags as though they’re precious cargo?

Going down the list that he remembered to bring—even though you wrote it, you’d forgotten about it—Gabriel ensures you’ve got all your essentials but can’t find the last ingredient you need. You know it’s crucial that when you have the chance to cook together, there’s no deviation from the recipe, no disrupting the ritual. When he suggests the pair of you should make a stop at another store, it’s not a compromise that you’re unwilling to make, but you’d much rather get back home and have him all to yourself again.

“Maybe we have some left from last time,” you say, trailing out as you scour the shelf for the third time, making a showy pretence of it.

“We don’t,” he informs with a discontented shake of his head, “I checked.”

The addendum to the shopping list was his doing, penned in at the bottom.

“Can we do without it?”

“We probably could, but do we want to? This is the question we have to ask ourselves. You know it’s not going to taste the same.”

He’s too determined for his own good sometimes.

It’s not that you want to rush him; it’s just that you know what traffic is like and how a little detour could throw the rest of your afternoon off. If you weren’t constantly picturing time dripping through the narrowest point of an hourglass, maybe you would have a single chill.

But you don’t, and Gabriel is already wise to some version of that.

Naturally, you think of a way to suggest he shuffle his priorities around and get you home without asking him to blatantly give up—because he won’t.

Beckoning him to lend you an ear with a finger, he leans down so you can whisper: “I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.”

Something passes over him as he returns to his full height. Once you think he’s past replying, he speaks into a closed fist, “Holy shit.” 

“You good?” A bad question, knowing full well you’ve quietly obliterated him.

He clears his throat and assures, “Never better.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how we need to home before the ice cream melts.”

“What ice cream?”

Gabriel steps away, opens the closest freezer, grabs a pint of ice cream, and adds it onto the heap in your cart. “That one.”

Then he slips behind you and helps you steer towards the checkout, whispering in your ear about how he still can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.

[handern]

sorry asking this out of pure curiosity in response to your tiramasu post tags, would you dip the biscuits in coffee as well as coat them in jam? thank you, im trying to get better at making them :)

Short answer : I use two types of cookies/biscuits so one is coated in jam and the other is dumped in coffee

LONG ANSWER, HERE'S MY RECIPE (in grams and cl, sorry)

INGREDIENTS (for 4 big servings)

16 biscuits (the recipe calls for "sponge fingers" or whatever they are called but we use Petit Brun biscuits) 10 hard amaretti cookies 5cl rhum 2 teaspoons of marsala 2 teaspoons of cognac 15cl of coffee (bitter to your taste) 3 tablespoons of apricot jam 425g mascarpone 2 eggs (separate white and yolk) 4 tablespoons of icing sugar 125g bitter chocolate powder (I just grate some chocolate tablet to my taste) (that means a lot more than 125g)

INSTRUCTIONS

you're supposed to put the amaretti cookies in the oven for 10 minutes at 190°C. but I never do that. it's supposed to take out the moisture?

Put half of the rhum with the coffee and cognac on the biscuits (I just put the liquids in a bowl and dump the biscuits quicky in it then crush them at the bottom of my molds. don't leave them too long or they'll fall apart)

That's your bottom layer

In one bowl whip the yolks with the marsala

Ad the ice sugar and rhum

In a second bowl whip the whites

Ad the mascarpone to the whites

Mix the two bowls together (usually I go w most liquid one goes in the most solid one)

Pour half of that over the biscuits, keep the rest for the top layer

Coat the amaretti cookies with the jam. (my mother and I crush them to have an even coating, but you do you)

That's your third layer

Cover with the second half of the mascarpone/egg mix for the final layer

-> Keep for 6 hours to a night in the fridge so it hardens well.

Cover with chocolate powder or grated chocolate before serving

NOTES

-> That's a lot of alcohol so usually I just stick to 2 spoonfuls of white cooking rhum, it works

-> You can also replace the cookies by speculoos, it's more sugary but it's great too, sometimes I replace both the cookies and biscuits with speculoos

-> Usually I just crush the biscuits at the bottom of my molds and crush the amaretti with the jam too. My mom crushes the biscuits but leaves the amaretti intact