#cooking with distillate

[dinosaurwithablog]

I made a regular pie today. The dough was exceptionally light and crispy. As you can see, I should've popped the bubble in the crust, but i didn't see it until the pie was done. Around here, if I asked for a regular pie, I'd probably get a slice of apple pie. In New York, a large cheese pizza is called a regular pie. Different lingo, same great pizza!! 🍕 🍕 🍕 🍕 I love pizza!! ❤️ When i was a kid, every day after school, I'd go to Sam and Tony's pizzeria and get 2 slices. I loved going there. I'd eat pizza and play pinball. It was a lot of fun. Those were some great days, but I digress. Now that I have the secrets to making great pizza dough, I make a lot of pizza. It's all in the water. If you don't live in New York, you should use distilled water in your pizza dough recipe. Oh, oh.... I've said too much. I hope that the pizza police don't track me down. 😉😁 In the words of Julia Child... bon appétit!!😋😋😍😁

[reco-obsessed]

thinking about this 4-koma comic again... its not even just the competitive reko but it specifically makes me think nao could be part of a fandom for a kids show she rewatches. hmmmmm

[tevintersnakes]

None of it is posted here but looking at my art from end of last year/start of this year of my bg3 OC and shaking my fist aggressively over the fact I'm getting too attached to moving towards realism.

anyway, here's Kettle & dnd!Antyllus from 02-Oct-23

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

[tomsflavorfusion]

Ricotta and pear cake recipe

Ricotta and pear cake recipe There are sweetslike the ricotta and pear cake, which contain all the warmth, beauty and sunshine of a land. When the best ingredients meet the imagination of a chef, a unique and unrepeatable alchemy is created. This was the case for Salvatore de Riso, “ambassador” of the wonderful products of the Amalfi Coast, who over the years invented desserts that have remained…

[luffyvace]

Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons

These are sfw and gender neutral

for Sanji’s big day! (I’m super late ik hush :3)

pt2 here my sillies :3 : Dating ~ Sanji Vinsmoke ~ headcanons pt2

Dating Sanji includes royal treatment. We all know this. It’s so obvious. 😭 It’s in the manga, it’s canon, we all write it in our headcanons. We know this.

Royal treatment meaning sit back and relax dear, Sanji’s got this. Sea beast? He beat it up and is now cooking a delicious and nutritious sea beast stew for you, would you like that with a smoothie? Lemonade? Water? Ok water. Sparkling? Distilled? Iced?

oh your lost? Don’t worry he’s got bread and he’ll leave breadcrumbs where you’ve walked so you don’t go in circles :)

your clothes are wet? Take his. 💋

there’s mud up ahead and you just bought a snazzy new fit? He’ll carry you 🏋️‍♂️

somebody bothering you loveliest? He’s already kicked them to Australia (extra hard if it was Zoro)

Dating Sanji includes good communication.

If you feel anything but a positive emotion Sanji is on the case. And the first victim he’s pointing fingers at is Zoro 😼

”MOSS HEAD BASTARD!! YOU MADE THEM UPSET DIDNT YOU?!”

it’s not a person darling? Well what happened? What can he do to help? Did you loose something? He’ll turn into a mad man causing chaos around town looking for it! Did it drop into the ocean? He swims as deep as he needs to in order to find it.

Honestly he even babies you about little stuff :P you stubbed your toe? Want him to massage it for you? That’s it! He’s breaking out the foot spa! Take off your socks and shoes!

he did something that really upset you?! Tell him what it is right away! He’ll make sure he never steps outta line ever again! He *kiss* never *kiss* meant *kiss* to *kiss* upset *kiss* you *kiss*~

Never feel hesitation to tell him if something’s wrong with you physically “Chopper! Come check them out right now!! They say somethings’ wrong!”

Nor mentally! You’ve been going through some tough times these last few months?! Sit down and tell him everything!! Let’s get to the root of this! Together! Is it someone else?? Did it happen from something??

Even if you aren’t feeling negative emotions right now always feel free to rant to him about what’s making you happy! he’d love to hear it truly! He loves your voice even more~ 🥰 *nose bleed*

Dating Sanji includes 5 star meals.

another thing we all know. And in every headcanon- but seriously what’s all your favorite meals, snacks and desserts? Even if Luffy himself says to make one thing he might make another just because he knows you like it. That guy eats anything anyway so he might as well just make what you like! 🧑‍🍳

Dating Sanji includes overly cheesy confessions despite the fact that your already and only dating.

”My dearest..I would love if you would go out with me and make this evening the loveliest of my days! I’d wholeheartedly accept and put my all into cooking for our first date….My love and affection with herb and spice…the flavor of our intense compatibility will melt on your tongue every bite you take! Guaranteed!”

”Sanji….we’ve been dating for xyz months/years now..”

”ahhh~ Even to the blossoms of this beautiful spring day know we’re simply destined to be..! Getting married tomorrow..it’s been my dream since we’ve first met! I can see it already, smell it even..! The enchanting scene of you walking down the isle, putting your hands in mine…kiss! The happiest day of my life has officially been sealed! Everyone’s clapping! Cheering! Whoop woo’s arise in the air of our love!~ The 6 layer cake I spent every ounce of my time baking since I met you, on the side of us—predicting our perfect wedding kiss! An exact model of the scene~ It brings a tear to my eye! I hope I don’t keep you up tonight, my darling love! Because I certainly won’t be able to sleep when I’m much too busy imagining the scene over and over again until our big day tomorrow, the same one I’ve been replaying in my head since I first laid eyes on you~ 😚”

”what on EARTH Sanji. We’re only dating! Wha- What do I even say to this?!”

”you could say yes! My lovely future spouse!~ 😍😍”

”To what! You haven’t even properly proposed to me yet?! Let alone made it official⁉️“

”ohh my honey! I didn’t know you wanted to get married- the wind! The sea! The birds even know our fate! We-“

”ALRIGHT!”

”SHUT IT SEAWEED HEAD!! DON’T INTERUPT ME WHILE IM CONFESSING MY LOVE to the most wonderful soul to have ever lived~”

⚔️🗡🔥💥💥💥⚔️🗡🔥💥⚔️🗡💥💥🔥

(Sanji and zoro fighting :3)

Dating Sanji includes sure fire protection.

no one will ever lay a hand on you. For a man? Self explanatory. Blast that motha sucka to space.💥 For a woman?? Welll…he’ll take all the hits for you okay?! So run away and go get Nami or Robin!! Hurry darling!

Dating Sanji includes trust.

more than anything he trusts you with his deepest darkest secrets. There’s no front when it’s just you two around, purely him. Not telling you his lineage was because he wanted to put that behind him..it wasn’t supposed to come back up. And man is he the most sorry sucker on earth when he betrays the strawhats. Because that means he’s betraying you. Pleasepleasepleasetakehimbackplease.

Uh guys I ran out of characters I’m gonna do a part two I guess 😭… I didn’t want to thooo

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello, can you do headcanons on how affectionate the (vanilla) bachelors are or just cute stuff they do with the farmer? I need more fluff on this app theres too much nsfw :(

Sure thing! :D

Hope you don't mind if I do sort of mix of two of your request (mostly just cute stuff, I think). Thanks for your ask, dear anon! ❤️

_________________________________________

Sam is still a bit of a kid at heart, so sometimes when Farmer comes home they can catch, for example, a big pillow fort in the middle of the living room where the musician is already waiting for his partner. With a laptop, some good film or cartoon ready to play, and their favourite goodies. Farmer had a not-so-good day fishing with the capture of a legendary fish, so relaxing in a soft fort in the arms of their beloved husband is just what they need. Sammy will shower Farmer with copious amounts of kisses and hugs, and loves it when Farmer does the same.

Already a popular writer, Elliott was beyond thrilled when Farmer agreed to tour with him for a week, signing autographs. In fact, the fan meet-and-greet was only supposed to be for half a day, while the rest of the time the writer wanted to spend with his partner in a new place. See the local sights, take them out to a restaurant for lunch, date in a beautiful square or amusement park. He's been a real romantic before, with flowers gifts gifts, signs of attention and so on, and on these trips Elliott will be like a knight from fairy tales, because Elliott just adores his partner.

It's been ages since Shane last played gridball. He gained some weight during since and thought he was not athletic anymore, but Farmer had said otherwise, begging to join them in a game vs. Alex and Sam. He agreed, and was shocked as his body remembered all the manoeuvres to keep his opponent from taking the ball. They won 3-2, all the while smiling contentedly as Farmer praised Shane for being the best. He didn't mind all the praise, hugs and tenderness, reminding them that it was Farmer who were the best. Shane's body will be sore in the morning because of workout. Totally worth it.

Harvey loves cooking with Farmer, whether it's for their romantic dinner or just a simple breakfast. It may seem tedious to some, because it's just standing in the kitchen and cooking food... but not for these two. Then they playfully have a distillation of who can make canapés the fastest, then they throw in a pinch of flour at each other, fooling around, then they cook while dancing, then Harvey kisses Farmer's cheek to steal the yeast for the dough, after which the Farmer jokingly declares "war" again - laughter and chaos. For Farmer and the doctor, cooking has become something special, intimate even.

Sometimes neither Sebastian nor Farmer want to leave the house, but just to lie on the sofa and do nothing. So the couple decided to take a day off from chores, but instead of doing absolutely nothing, Sebby downloaded a bunch of interesting games on the console for co-op with Farmer, while they cooked for two in the kitchen all sorts of snacks and coffee/hot chocolate. For half a day, Sebastian and his partner sat on the soft, snuggling, under a warm blanket and with joysticks in their hands, shouting a victory cry when they won a battle, or giving each other consoling kisses if they lost. All in all, the day of was very relaxing and sweet.

Alex doesn't know anything much about crops or farming/gardening in general, but why can't the athlete learn to care for plants like his spouse? He wants to spend more time with Farmer, and they don't mind it too, but are constantly busy with their main job. So Alex listens to Farmer's advice and instruction on how to care for the fairy roses. Alex doesn't know why roses specifically, he just likes them. Although he has often glared at beloved spouse, at how beautiful they are and how similar they are to these very roses, forgetting the care lecture about flowers. He got a playful, light bonk on the head from Farmer, but the learning itself left a warm memory for both of them.

[dmitriene]

𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗖𝗨𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘣𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘛𝘖𝘖𝘛𝘏 𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘍𝘓𝘜𝘍𝘍, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘛, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢����𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘯𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦, 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴

no matter how strange it may be, the place where you most often spent time with leon was the sofa in your living room of the apartment, the point was probably that it was very close to the entrance, and this was comfort — all that was required of you was take off your shoes and outerwear before collapsing in a heap of limp limbs onto the soft poufs.

unfortunate, in its concept, furniture survived everything — you slept on it in an warm embrace after a hard day, kissed and hugged while watching a movie, fucked when you didn’t have enough strength to get to the bedroom and your body burned with an ardent desire to cling to, lick, touch here and now, and once you even pulled him away from another bottle of tart alcohol, begging, asking him to stop.

your relationship has survived more than one raging wave, but the walls of the apartment and some furniture store and remember everything — with their unevenness, scratches, stains that stuck into the surface, absolutely all the ups and downs, but the only thing she has never seen is you and leon separately, you always together.

today was kind of hard, you had to go grocery shopping with a fairly large list and stop at a couple more places along the way, naturally, be that as it may — but being away from home almost the whole day was quite exhausting, as was carrying bags, even if they spent most of their time in the trunk of the car, waiting for you to finally return home only to be dismantled.

and you finally get there, home, your shoes quickly fly off your feet and past the shelves before you both move on and start putting away your purchases, groceries in the kitchen, little things like hygiene in the bathroom and in the closet there, you no longer have the strength to cook food or to go to the shower — you both wearily collapse on the familiar sofa and laugh in unison when your bodies become tangled and leon wearily hits his forehead against your chest, purring something about — «just.. five minutes, sweetheart, and i'll move»

and, naturally, he didn’t move, on the contrary, he only pressed harder, making you giggle quietly and slightly change your position so that both of you were comfortable, running through the tangled dark strands with your fingers and to the back of his neck, where nails begin to scratch his flesh and send a pleasant shiver down his vertebrae, and he responds in the same tactile manner, running his palms along the curve of your waist, pressing his nose into the chest and to the open area of ​​the collarbone and neck, kissing wetly.

— «leon.. not, don't even try, we didn't even took a shower» you are in a hurry to pronounce on the distillation, frowning your eyebrows and provoking wrinkles on your skin, when leon raises his head in response and looks with that same look that is completely difficult and even impossible to refuse, baby blue eyes rush into yours with puppy tenderness, and you already know that you will fall under his ministrations, as he saying, practically whining — «uhh, come on darling, a quick one?.. please»

is it possible from this point to call leon a lover of quick sex?

definitely yes, and with him it can happen absolutely anywhere, at any time and incredibly slowly, viscous sweet kisses and sticky touches on the body following his movements of his hips, and you never denied him his desire, you didn’t even think, because what can be better than being pressed by his body into some surface while hoarse moans blow hot breath on your ears, following endless chants — «thankyouthankyou sweetheart, thank y — ffuckghm»

so you find yourself pressed with your back to the soft sofa and its pillows, which are carefully placed under your head, your legs are spread and raised to the width of his shoulders, fluttering somewhere above your head when he presses his whole body into you, holding them and pushing into your sopping, spasming cunt rapidly, his balls hit the curve of your ass, and his pubic rubs perfectly against your throbbing clit, allowing him not only to drive into all your spongy spots, but also stimulate your clit, and that's all you need to cause fireworks and a pleasant tremors in your body, covering his long cock with your slick essence.

leon was in seventh heaven from the feeling of you next to him, under his body and how tight and pleasant your pussy clenched around him, slick walls sucking his long cock so deliciously, letting him pump in and out on different paces just for him to slide back in your tight heat that envelope him so good, his rentheless thrusts making you just mewl and tilt your head till your neck is hurting, while leon’s warm and slightly moist lips leave a scattering of burning kisses on your skin, nuzzling with his nose under the area of your chin only from the pleasure of being close and listening to the hail of your moans and euphoric sobs, cooing in a warm baritone — «taking it like a good girl, my pretty baby, jus' like that, suck me in your beautiful pussy»

leon's tongue always unties once he finds himself buried deep inside you, the words are still just as tender, but more lustful and burn stronger, causing the coil in the lower abdomen to tingle tightly following the wave of his purring, praising words, he expresses his adoration for you, for your cunt, to your body — kissing each area and marking it with scarlet buds of hickeys at the same time, thrusting into you at the same unrelenting pace, letting his short dark pubic hair become wet from the amount of your slick as you began to squeeze him tighter, no longer ucnlenching, spasming around his shaft rapidly and mewling out almost in a broken sob — «i'm close, lee.. mmn! leon, so close, please, go on!»

your word is his law, and his movements do not slow down for a second, he continues to cover your body with viscous kisses while your head rolls back like your eyes, your bodies simultaneously begin to sweat and you no longer feel your legs, suspended in the air while his precise thrusts continue to make his hips meet your ass, and his throbbing cock with your tight but warm and trembling walls, luring him deeper, mushy head that dribbles endlessly scratch and bump against your cervix, making you trash suddenly as he coo at your soft sobs and moans, seeing that you can't move at all — «shh, i got you, gonna feel so good, sweetheart, almost there, yeah? be good for me»

all you can do is nod, choking on your own desperate moans and clinging to his bicep with your nails, leaving a scarlet painting behind you and pressing into his shoulder while he picks up the pace, non stop slaps echo throughout the living room as he hits your spongy spots, rubbing along your gummy walls and letting your pussy slobber all over his cock and pubic hair, he teases your throbbing clit with each thrust and pump, fucking into you with numbing force and making you spasm and clamp, mewling out deeply as he grunts — «cummm, cumming, leon, i'm cummiing, mmmh!»

a deep growl slips from the shiny lips when he feels your walls clinging and tightening around his cock with an attempt to milk him, and the feeling itself triggers his own orgasm, which hits him after yours, allowing the tight coil in the very bottom of your belly to snap, clear fluids of yours cum and slick coating his shaft as he pumps more slowly, his hips moving smoothly with each movement that buries his cum in your quivering cunt, ropes of hot sticky seed coating your insides and making you go limp, accepting all he can let you have, while he growls and his abdominal muscles clench, his nose nuzzles into your sweaty, covered with saliva and scarlet buds neck, releasing a trembling sigh, either swearing or praise, but his hot breath caresses your skin and gives you goosebumps when he purrs — «shit.. fuck, it was good, darling»

you stay in this position for some time, enough for your body to completely cease to be felt, and your eyelids become heavy with fluttering eyelashes, but then leon finally rises for a fraction of minutes with a slight sigh, carefully moving away from you on his knees and slowly lowering your legs from his broad shoulders, carefully, knowing that they could go numb, so he strokes them all those couple of seconds that he lowers them, pressing his lips to the soft skin and tickling it with his light stubble, before finally allowing his cock to ease out of your warm, loose cunt, all the length of his cock shines in the mix of your shared fluids, coating him all the way to his balls as some remnants of his cum leaking out of you, and no matter how tired you and fucked out, you feel it.

stickiness and the feeling that something is leaving you causes a short snort from your lips, when you barely raise your body on your elbows, and leon immediately hold you up behind your back, sitting you flat on the sofa and pressing you to him for greater comfort, the floor is littered with your scattered clothes, the air contains the tart aroma of sweat and sex, and when your eyes meet and his blue ones look into yours extremely tenderly, definitely contentedly, you can’t help but smile, but still mutter a little sternly, earning a chesty chuckle in response — «now we'll have to take a shower, lee»

his chuckle is followed by a nod, and strong arms immediately wrap around your legs to lift you without unnecessary discomfort, without even sighing as he lifts both his and your weight, holding you to his chest with honed care and such passionate affection in his eyes that sometimes you don’t understand how it could arise in him, but then his nose nuzzles the top of your head and leaves a tiny kiss on it, and his steps slowly lead the two of you towards the bathroom while he purrs gently — «of course, anything you want and crave, my darling»

these are enough words for you to be mildly embarrassed, as if you had just recently started dating him, but all his daily tender words always cause a slight play of butterflies in your stomach, just like the first time, so you relax and nuzzle him into his chest, while he nuzzles in your temple with his nose and another tender kiss in response, seems that it's you who are responsible for the ariseness of this tenderness in him.

[strangelittlestories]

Mount Emberdrum had no living priests, prophets or paladins remaining.

This was a problem, for it had recently become active, and had no particular wish to belch ash and flame on the communities that thrived in its shadow.

What was needed was a sacrifice. Not anything too terrible. Just the occasional meal cooked in the heat of the mount’s smouldering peak, with choice tidbits given to earth. A few well-loved possessions cast into the caldera. A song sung to the moody, peach-bruised sky that reminded it of times gone by. 

But none of the people living there remembered enough to read the signs in the earth and sky, which hinted at Emberdrum’s awakening. And none still knew which cuts of meat it had loved, which things it prized as relics, or which songs soothed its ancient soul.

Yes, Emberdrum had no warm-tongued shepherds; no visionaries with ash clouds for eyes; no guardians to cut open the dusk with black-stone knives. It had no more priests, prophets or paladins, *but* it did recall the shape of things.

It remembered the curve of a blade. It knew the imprint of the holy word. It could still taste the ash of boot and blood and song.

And so, mere days after Mount Emberdrum began to wake, a figure climbed down the slope. It wore armour of charred wood, carried a wicked obsidian knife, and bore the secret names of the living earth. 

It hummed as it walked and its voice resonated steadily with the rocks and sky.

In the first village it came to - the one near the peak - it asked simply: “Is there anything I can help with?”

Some remarked on its strange appearance. On the basalt in its voice, the crystals that seemed to shine in its eyes, the rough pumice of its dark skin. But they did so quietly, and not too rudely, for it had asked very politely and they *did indeed* require help.

The visitor was happy to lend a hand with any task, be that helping distil that year’s crop of palm wine, fetching lost goats from distant crags, or fighting off bandits that roamed sometimes up and down the mounts.

All the visitor asked in return was the occasional meal, the odd song, and perhaps a well-loved possession (if the owner had no further use for it).

When it arrived in a new settlement, it was reluctant to give its name. But eventually, the people it helped would begin to insist on something to call it - if only so they knew who to thank.

And then the visitor would smile its landslide smile and say: “Emberdrum. You can thank Emberdrum.”

And thus, the mount still received its offerings.

And thus, it could return to blissful sleep (even as a little part of it was forever out wandering and visiting and seeing who it could help).

[heycarrots]

There’s been a lot of discourse about the nature of James and Miranda’s relationship. There’s even been a lot of discussion on my podcast about it. One thing I want to make clear is that my podcast is a platform for discussion on all points of view. I’m not going to agree, 100%, with everything that’s said, but it makes the views of my guests no less valid. There’s no right or wrong, here, because this is art and therefore, it is subject to interpretation.

My intent, however, is to attempt to get as close to the original intent of the actors as possible because we look at a show or a film or a play as going through several layers of distillation. Each level purifies the intended narrative leaving its truest essence.

When we make a reduction sauce using an alcohol of some kind, let’s say a red wine, the heat applied to it burns off things we don’t need for flavor. You’re never going to get drunk off of red wine reduction because there’s almost no alcohol left in it. That all gets burned off, leaving only the flavor components, which is what we wanted all along, anyway. We want that extra element that enriches the flavor of the steak, by adding nuance.

So let’s take apart that meal.

We start with the birth of the idea. The story kicks around in an author’s head, trying to get out, growing bigger and more persistent until it outgrows the confines of the mental box inspiration is stored in and has to be let out. That idea, that’s the cow.

The author raises that idea, feeds it, watches it grow, and then, ultimately slaughters it. That sounds awful, but once you have that idea pulsing, growing, evolving and then finally commit the final draft on paper, it is a kind of death. The life of the story comes to an end and it becomes memorialized in a mausoleum. Readers will come to visit, spend time with it, lay down flowers, cherish it, and mourn its passing.

The next level is adaptation. That’s the steak. There are many ways you can slice the story, large roasts encompassing the whole story or a smaller, hyper-focused character study fillet mignon.

A writers room gets hold of the cow and carves it up. They choose what gets cooked and what gets tossed. A GREAT group of writers saves the bones. They take in the entire supporting structure of the piece and while the whole story may not make it onto the screen, they will have slow roasted the bones for a stock. When you watch a show like Black Sails, where themes are introduced that won’t fully be explained or explored until several seasons later, that’s what that is. It is the stock being used to flavor the whole dish. You’ve distilled the entire cow to its purest essence and so every scene, every line of dialogue, every acting choice, encompasses the entirety of the story. A line from episode one is defined by knowledge of the finale and in regard to dialogue, defined by an actors’ knowledge of a character’s backstory. There are many writers rooms who are creating the bones of the story as they go, which means they aren’t starting with a rich stock. You can’t trace back character motivations or choices to begin with because those motivations changed throughout production.

Black Sails, again, isn’t one of those shows. Steinberg and Levine came into the writers room with their stock pot full and sloshing, spilling story everywhere. The richness of the details they were laying can make season one a bit hard to consume unless you are ready for a story on that level. Viewers need to come to the table with some bread to sop up all those character details because we WILL need them later.

Over the course of finalizing scripts and blocking out episodes, the steak is cooked. Like any great steak, this story is medium rare. More juice comes out with every bite. It’s what makes the show infinitely rewatchable. It continues to cook on the plate, but because it wasn’t overdone, it never dries out.

When the actors get ahold of it, that’s the reduction sauce we were talking about. That sauce provides nuance and flavor. That’s the emotion. A line of dialogue on a page is just ink. It’s nothing until it’s spoken aloud. And like any bit of language in this world, it’s subject to interpretation. In this case, it’s the actor who does the interpreting.

I spoke on the podcast about the art of subtext and how huge a role it plays in Black Sails. One example we used is Jane Eyre. It’s one of the most frequently adapted novels in the English language and with each adaptation, we get a new version of our characters. The most volatile and subject to change is Rochester. There are MANY versions of Rochester that I find appalling (including the original beast in the book), but each actor has formed him into something else, based on their performance. Toby Stephens takes Rochester and turns him into a silly tragic romantic, broken many times over by a society he never really fits into, despite the status of his birth. He connects with Ruth Wilson’s Jane because she fully and happily inhabits that space on the fringes that Rochester thinks he needs to climb out of. Jane takes his hand on the outside of the wall, turns him away from the guarded palace and shows him the wild world that was at his back this whole time.

This is what Toby Stephens, Luke Arnold, Louise Barnes, Zethu Dlomo, and really all the actors for whom their subtextual choices make them reflect like prisms, have done with their performances.

In the final distillation, character motivations and emotions are finalized by the actor. Writers can pontificate, the source material lies dead in its lovely tomb, but stories live and breathe by their storytellers.

What we’re left with is Toby’s face telling the world how deeply Flint loves Silver. Every single choice tells this story.

We’re left with Luke showing us how much Silver is repressing in his feelings for Flint. Luke’s face shows us an incredible depth of feeling and a door slamming shut.

We’re left with the incredible intimacy between James and Miranda, which speaks of a decade of shared physical intimacy. There’s an openness, a freeness to it until the moment in episode 3 when Miranda learns that James has found the Urca and is leaving soon to pursue it. She gives some of it away when she says “I thought I’d have you all to myself”. She is mourning the loss of intimacy that she only gets in short windows of time. They aren’t strained because James isn’t attracted to her, but because he’s rarely there. She has him for a few days at a time before he’s off on another hunt. The coldness starts from the moment he tells her he’s leaving in a few days because I believe she thinks he won’t be coming back, that this is the hunt he won’t survive and she’ll finally have lost both James and Thomas. From the moment Richard Guthrie darkens her door, she’s looking for a way to weaponize him and get them out. For her, it’s a race against the clock and she’s willing to sacrifice a bit of her relationship with James in the present to secure happiness for them in the future.

This is also why James still has sex with her before leaving, even though he’s furious for her reading Meditations to Richard. This is how they connect. They connected through physical intimacy in the flashbacks, as well. Him stroking her thumb in the carriage before the kiss. Tactile contact to seal their understanding of each other. Miranda bracing her hands on his chest during important moments in the Hamilton’s home, something she also does to Thomas, to show physical connection, physical intimacy. Miranda thrives on physical touch.

To think that, for 10 years, James is lying there like an object for Miranda to use, is, to me, short sighted. To think that James doesn’t love Miranda outside of a group, is also ignoring the fact that, 10 years on, James will not leave on a hunt (angry as they both are) without physically connecting with her, trying so hard to reach beyond his anger and the wound freshly opened from sight of that book he’s chosen not to look at for probably the better part of those 10 years. The way his hands hover over her back after she comes and he desperately wants to be with her in that moment, like the best of their moments, but he just can’t, speaks to the depth of his love for her.

So many fans of the show point to this sad sex scene as one of the most important character moments for James and Miranda, but I consistently come to the opposite conclusions about WHY it’s important and what we learn from it, because I’m taking my cues from the actor’s choices, not the director or the writers. On the page, in plain ink, he hates having sex with her. Toby and Louise show us, however, that they are trying to recapture a thing that is fleeting, reaching out to each other to patch up an old wound from which the scab has been picked off, leaving it seeping and raw.

From Toby’s performance, regardless of the words he uses years later to describe it, we see not a character who “loves men” or a character who “loves women”, but a character who LOVES. I don’t see Flint defining that love in terms of boxes and parameters. He’s a character who must be coaxed out, but then loves without reason, without a safety net, as he proves with his love of Silver. As was also referenced by a guest on the podcast, he places a sword in Silver’s hand and says “do it”.

Anyway, this post got away from me and took several turns, but the love between James and Miranda being dismissed by so many in the fandom has been bugging me for a while and I just needed to emotionally vomit on tumblr.

[solarpunkbusiness]

The Solar Water Farm and Distillation System is a modular, all in one solution providing purified, distilled water from any water source including seawater, surface water, groundwater (bores or wells) and rainwater. The source water is fed through a panel that is directly heated by the sun, distilling the water through the process of evaporation and condensation. The resulting purified water is suitable for drinking, cooking, washing and cleaning. The system is fitted with a rainwater harvesting and filtration component as well.

Local women are trained to manage the solar water farms fostering economic independence for women.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I have a cold rn with a dash of sore throat. How would Yves take care of a sick reader?

Just wondering how he'd take care of me 👉👈

Yves had never left your side while you're awake. Not even to cook, work or do chores. However, when Yves gently wakes you up with whispers and kisses, he would always be ready with something hearty and delicious. Not even your cold can shake your appetite for Yves's cooking.

Steamy chicken soup, homely congee, mild porridge, or anything you're craving (within reason), he would make it for you and always imbued with the purest distillation of love.

You could either let him feed you at the perfect pace, or you could choose to feed yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable, but he must stay close to you.

The room's temperature would be lowered to accommodate your fever and he would cuddle himself up next to you, petting your hair and resting his lips on the crown of your head. Doing this allows Yves to monitor any changes in your temperature discretely. But, he didn't have to. He could spot the signs of a flare-up within a glance, he just wanted to hold you close to him.

If your fever is particularly horrible and paracetamol couldn't help, Yves would prepare a small tub of lukewarm water, and a towel and roll up his sleeves to cool you down. It doesn't matter how long it took or how he had to wring the cloth numerous times until the skin of his palms became red, Yves will continue to be by your side and tirelessly care for you.

If you had any assignments due, Yves would complete them for you in silence. That is if he knows you're the type of person to want that. If not, he would contact your lecturers and explain your situation, requesting special considerations for you. You don't have to peep a word, as soon as you're healed, you're already back on track. Perhaps even further ahead with his help.

Throughout the day, he would fuel your body with nutritious fruits and hot tea that warms your chest every time you sip. It's bizarre how he would just appear with them in his hands without hearing or seeing him leave the room. Maybe the cold has clouded your mind a lot, that is why Yves would speak much softer yet clearer and exude an extremely soothing vibe. You couldn't put a finger as to why Yves is so appealing during this time. But for sure, he has manipulated his appearance through the use of makeup and slightly altered his fashion sense to induce some strong, nostalgic, and comforting feelings within you.

Yves knows how boring it could get when you're sick, as all you can do is lay around and perhaps use your phone. But up to some point, you would get tired of that too, and suffer another form of torture. It depends on your personality, but he would add a bit of whimsy to your day.

You never knew Yves owned that many pillows, enough pillows to make a large pillow fort on the bed, complete with a blanket roof. Then, he would tell you stories that he specially crafted or chose as you drifted to sleep on his lap, while he traced sensual lines along your jaw and nose.

He doesn't mind getting snot, puke, or otherwise on him. Yves will never make you feel guilty for your body's natural defenses. It's astonishing how he doesn't flinch when you accidentally coughed up sputum onto his eye. Yves doesn't even scramble to get it off him until you're settled. Apologizing to him will earn a gentle scolding, where he tells you not to feel bad about yourself, and that he loves you so much, he would do anything to make you feel better.

He keeps up on your hygiene, Yves would carry you to the tub and bathe you if you didn't have the energy. He would also work out the knots on your back, massaging wherever he knows are causing you to feel sore. And this could go on all night if you're suffering from so much agony, that you couldn't sleep. Yet, he doesn't mind. He doesn't seem to mind losing sleep or not sleeping at all.

In short, Yves would be present. Perhaps he couldn't solve your cold immediately, as it is up to your body's ability. But rest assured, he will be there every step of the way, holding your hand and tenderly stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

[nunalastor]

First Man!Alastor

Alastor dies to the first man - and wakes up in Eden, being told his name is Alastor and he is the first man and it is his duty to mate with the first woman, Lilith. Alastor immediately says no, and leaves - leaving Lilith quite put out, and even more put out when his replacement, Adam, tries to dominate her, making HER leave.

Alastor is human again, but the first man - and he never ate the apple, because Adam and Lilith were born with free will, otherwise Lilith wouldn't have been able to refuse Adam in the first place. But he can't be a serial killer because there's no other humans, he can't drink whiskey or cook because there's no distilling or anything other then stone tools, he can't dance because there's no jazz and there is, of course, no radio.

This is horrible.

Things still go down in Eden the way they did before, except now as far as the angels are concerned, the only non tainted human is Alastor, who is busy figuring out how to make a loom to weave his own clothes because you're never fully dressed without a smile - but you're never fully dressed without clothes either.

Adam, meanwhile, has a massive inferiority complex towards Alastor.

👀

[dragonomatopoeia]

A friend requested that I post some ORV thoughts on Tone and Themes from discord. I have edited the messages for better organization and clarity below:

There are a lot of quotes that you could argue are the culmination or distillation of ORV. You could also argue that ORV itself is not reducible to a single quote because of the sheer enormity of it, and how that size is a component of the story itself. But if I were to convey the specific melancholy of ORV-- my most fundamental read on the Feeling of ORV-- I would choose one quote to do so.

I’d fall back on, “In a world turned upside down, where monsters were rampant, we still had to clear the snow.”

Throughout the immense battles of good vs evil or gods and demons, ORV remains a story about people doing the things they have to in order to continue living.

And there is a distinct melancholy to that: the grief stricken “is it just this forever,” everyone being a regressor, and the mundane tragedies of struggling on in a world that will build a narrative around you regardless of your input or desires. However, all of these things are part and parcel to ‘surviving’ in a ruined world

It's about taking those small steps forward, regardless of cataclysmic tragedy and world-rending stakes. You still have to clear the snow. You still have to take care of the people around you. You still have to cook dinner. You still have to live.

It's the melancholy of a 'nevertheless', and that's a hopeful kind of melancholy. Reaching out and trying again and again. Leaving a mark on the wall because someone might read it. Regressing so that one day you won’t have to. Iterating and changing and trying again and again. It’s about making attempts.

It's about finding ways to survive, even if you've forgotten a few.

[godhandler]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#2 - The Ring Ceremony

[noritoshi kamo, 12 is engaged to his bride, 7. gojo satoru says hi.]

tw: forced marriage, child marriage (yes I'll age my characters up, let's have the angst for now), angst, Zenin clan being Zenin clan, noritoshi x reader, no use of 'y/n', fluff a bit, no smut.

#1 - Omiai #3 - Menarche

Growth happens sporadically. For example, you had not grown much in the first eight years of your life. Not much reason to, really. Your cursed technique became clear surprisingly early, at about 3 years of age, and since then you had lived the proper Zenin life. One of abundance, joy and familial love. If you said you wanted that cake, or that flower, or this or that, you had it in your hand immediately. Your father even talked about you being the clan head someday, impossible as it sounded to you. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t know anything about the flip side of it. Your dearest cousins Maki and Mai weren’t as special as you, you noticed. Nor was your mother as important as your father, in fact no aunty or grandma were as important as their husbands. But you were special. Surely you were.

There had been talks about your powers recently, before the Kamos visited you. Your family, the whole horde of them, would test you. It wasn’t very difficult. Curses would be brought out and you would have to use Distillation to choose the best cursed weapon to kill them. You would be shown a missing person report, you had to figure out where the person was. A funner game was the Maze Game, where Grandpa Naobito would leave you in a maze, or labyrinth, or anywhere you didn’t really know, and you would have to find your way out. Compared to school, this was actually more exciting to do. Especially the praise you would get afterwards from everyone. The prodigy of the family. The princess of the castle. 

You, idiot child you were, never really wondered how your family would react if you had happened to fail the tests. You never failed. You never disappointed. 

So it was quite sobering to be sitting in the Pit of Punishment after your attempt to run away. A failed attempt. You were disappointing both yourself and the Zenin clan. 

Naoya Zenin was lounging near the door, not actually letting the curses eat you – just enough to scare you. It was working. You were fucking terrified really, but somehow your cousin being there allowed you to not piss your pants. Naoya was a kind man. 

Mai. Mai come save me. Please. Nii-chan, please come, I can't move. Maki, mother, father, grandpa, please help me. someone, please, help me out.

“Really, little Zenin- oh, should I call you Kamo now?” He laughed. “Is this any way for a lady to behave?”

I’m 8, idiot. What lady are you talking about? 

Was it the ten minutes you spent in the pit, or the past two months of lady-training (as you called it), that made you grow up so fast? Somehow, after your marriage was fixed, handling tea-sets and cooking tamagoyaki became insanely important. But the worst was the lessons on womanly etiquette, on the ways of wifely manners, behaviours and duties. Unlike you, Maki and Mai were free to do as they liked, talk about being sorcerers and travelling to America. Not even they helped you, no one did. Hence came the plan Run-Away-From-Home. You got surprisingly far actually. Distillation was great for this: you could see every lapse in your home security, everything that you needed to carry, every route you should take. You had made it to the Kyoto train station before your family could get a hold of you. 

No longer were you a precious child, but you never really were, were you? You were nothing more than a lucky asset to have. The Zenin clan did not hesitate to earn the returns on you as soon as possible. Unfortunately soon. You are eight.

Naoya walks down the steps into the Pit where you lay curled in a foetal position and prods you with his finger. “Up, Kamo-chan” He grins, “Back to your chambers”. The curses melt away into the darkness. 

The days go by in a blur. Obedience, subservience, wifely duties, be agreeable, be quiet, be attentive, the domain of the kitchen and bedroom, marriage, husband, Noritoshi Kamo. You want to drive a machete through that man’s chest. He’s the cause of all this, yes, it’s all his fault. Now that your marriage has been fixed (and a bride price of 60 million yen wrestled from the Kamo clan) there isn’t actually any care or concern for your previously much praised cursed technique. When you think about it, it isn’t really great in any way, is it? Distillation allows the user to understand everything within the span of their eyesight. Every question answered, every mystery solved, the cloudy waters distilled – as long as you can see it. You suppose Sherlock Holmes would love this power, but you are fated to be a wife and mother, nothing more. Maybe it’ll help you find the broom closet faster. The days and months are all plagued by the same thing: Noritoshi Kamo.

—- 

Satoru Gojo walks about the lavishly decorated garden. Megumi would’ve liked the food, he muses, his stark white mop reflecting sunlight over the heads of the celebrating crowd. A Kamo-Zenin engagement, and all the festivities that came with it. Ah, the celebrations of higher-ups, nothing gets them happier than child marriage. Thank fuck I saved Megumi. He didn’t have much choice in attending this. As the Gojo clan head, there are some things you must do, regardless of personal feelings. To not rock the boat. To keep the status quo as it is. 

The ring ceremony is over, bride-to-be and groom-to-be having identical rings on their hands now, and they have retired back into the inner chambers of the Kamo estate. Blood Manipulation and Distillation? Satoru smiled, worth a visit. 

Satoru Gojo wasn’t expecting any resistance from anyone, because A. he’s Satoru Gojo and B. he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong per se, it’s just that people distrusted his movies meeting the young couple. For good measure, what if I teach the kids the concept of free will?

He found the two sitting by themselves on a veranda, apologising to each other about the marriage. Clearly, people were too busy merry-making to notice the runaway pair. Besides, where would they even run away to? There is nowhere to go. Satoru frowned. They’re too young to be behaving like this. 

“Ah, young love!” He happily startled the two with his sudden appearance, “Do you two turtle-doves have space for a dashing older brother like me?”

They did not return his wide grin and wider arms. Satoru watched as recognition clicked onto both their faces (your father had shown you two a picture of Satoru Gojo and told you to avoid him). The Kamo boy, a lean young man of 12, got up slowly and bowed to him, welcoming him with such formal words. The Zenin bride, a literal child of maybe 8, nodded her head, trying to quickly hide her tears. She said nothing, seemingly hiding behind her brand-new fiancé. 

Satoru laughed at the sight. One day I’ll grind down these motherfucking old ass clans who do this shit to kids, I swear to myself. “Scared of me, little brat?” The poor child, look at her. “Aren’t you the sorcerer with the immense Distillation technique?” 

You glance up at him, eyes still watery. Gojo Satoru is startling to look at. Shocking white hair, a full head taller than most people, blindfolded in broad daylight, the palest skin on his handsome features. And his abounding cursed energy, it stuns (and maybe scares) you. The blindfold doesn’t stop much, his gaze can be felt searing into your skin. There is nothing you can do. Helpless, pitiful, sold like sheep by your own family. And yet– 

“Immense?” 

“Aren’t you the one with all the answers? A prophet of sorts, no?”

What? In all your life, you had never thought of things like that– Could you? Were you?

“Her technique is brilliant, Gojo-sama.” Noritoshi lends a hand. “The way I understand it, a bit like your Six Eyes, yes?”

And before you could remember your wifely training, you found yourself contesting him. “Not really, the Six Eyes help him see, in the physical sense. I understand things that aren’t there really. For example, Gojo-sama can see me through my wataboshi, I am certain, but I can see Gojo-sama’s thoughts on this wedding.” Despite everything, you can't not be you.

Satoru claps his hands together, “Perfect explanation, even though that was a bit creepy” He laughs. “Can you really hear my thoughts?” 

“I’m not sure”

“Try–”

Cursed Technique: Distillation

The crowds outside suddenly falls quiet, so do the other two in your room. There is no movement, no sound, no thought except for yours. Satoru Gojo’s formal shirt is from Junya Watanabe’s recent Summer Collection. His molars hurt because he ate too much daifuku at the dessert station. He disapproves of your marriage, but this is a hill that he cannot die on. He’s had some meaty ginger chicken packed from lunch for his adopted son, Megumi Fushiguro. He thinks Noritoshi is too tall and too mature for his age. He truly is impressed to see your technique. He thinks this is all nonsense, and that you are a child, and that you should enjoy your youth to the fullest as a young girl, not as a wife. He promises that no matter what, he will arrange for you to attend Jujutsu Tech School. 

—--

Satoru Gojo left soon after. After a long time, you saw hope in your future.

#3 - Menarche

pics:

sftish_

2. anime screencap

[A/N: honestly i recently binged the whole manga, i cant cross chapter 210 ish, a beloved character of mine seems to face imminent death, im just not ready for it. plus im procrastinating on an assignment, a viva voce test, 300+ pages of reading and a research project due this month, so have at my random burst of energy

do lemme know if u like it, or if i can make any changes? like chapter's too long, or my writing is a bit unclear, id love to hear feedback :)) ]

[hushhushchild]

—NSFW Imagines—

Gender neutral reader, spicy, not smut

I seem to have picked up a slight fascination for… “rare” monsters in monsterfucking. Of course, the odd werewolf or minotaur fills my need most times. But there’s something so delectable about something novel, a unique flavor to sate my appetite. I might even elaborate on them later…

Needless to say, I’ve compiled a few of these, from savory to sweet. I hope you enjoy, my lovelies.

~Witch~

A new bakery just opened down the block! In a rather slow part of the city, any new development (let alone a bakery) catches your eye. It’s a quaint little shop. A chime greets your entrance. Ivy drapes from pots, indie music wafts through the air. And the owner herself, looking every last bit of the manic pixie dream girl.

Maybe she thought you were cute… slipped something into a pastry or some of the coffee served…

Maybe you just keep seeming to run into her. Grocery stores, banks, your own job. As if by fate.

Her spells could trap you, tempt you, tangle you up.

And the worst thing is… you don’t seem to care.

>Robot<

Ladies and gentlemen, the future of innovation has finally arrived! Our top scientists have managed to distill complex artificial intelligence into that of a physical form! With a simple at-home setup, you too could have an android! Whether it helps out in cooking or cleaning, teaching the kiddos, or being a good friend, our machines will do anything in their power to make you satisfied.

Suppose the robot you got was… mildly defective. It never got an update patch, which was designed to prevent the AI from learning too novel of behaviors.

Suppose it determined that what would make you happiest is fulfilling your deepest, darkest fantasies.

Suppose that this robot never slows down. Never needs to eat, or sleep, or even breathe. Spending all its time making your life a hellish heaven.

“Mimic”

Did you… always have two water bottles? Or, for that matter, two of the same stewpots? For some reason, it seems that instead of things going missing, you’re getting duplicates. And it’s getting worse.

When did your things start to move around the house without you noticing? You could’ve sworn that you left them one place, and you’re not the forgetful sort. It’s not like you have a roommate…

Say, when did you get a second vibrator? And why is that one oh-so-more intense?

%Fungus%

The air, deep in the forest, has a different smell. Not exactly floral, not exactly woody, not exactly earthy. It’s sweet, but the asphalt-sweet that reminds you of summer.

It’s growing thicker, more pungent. While it once was a gentle note in the bouquet of the forest, it slowly grows to overtake the moss and leaves. You don’t even notice when you wander off the path.

Your brain feels like it was dipped in sparkling water. It’s not hard to think, per se. It just… refuses to. The request never loads. A hazy static hangs over anything else.

You’re a perfect prey for the spores, before you even realize what you’re inhaling,