#milk pudding how to make

[girlwarlock]

a mocha pudding recipe

put

1/2c butter 1c sugar 1Tbsp cocoa powder

in a double boiler; bring water to a boil, heat until butter is melted

remove butter from heat then beat in

8 egg yolks

until no streaks remain, then add

1/2c fresh coffee

mix thoroughly, then return to double boiler; cook, stirring constantly, until desired thickness

i adapted this from the joy of cooking recipe for the filling of a lemon tart; once my oven is working right I intend to make a mocha tart. thing, but until it is working right, baking anything even slightly fiddly is a crapshoot

anyway. it's v rich and firm and i'm sure you could whip it full of air and have a light fluffy chocolate/coffee pudding but i like it dense so i didn't

[sysig]

Hunger Pangs (Patreon)

[red-hemlock]

In Depth and Personal Munday Meme // 🐸 - Something that makes you smile for fandom reasons? (and/or) 🍼 - Do you have a comfort food?

Mun Questions n' Stuff! @oculusxcaro

(HAAAAA PEAK SMILES WERE HAD WHEN GIVING RIDDLER HIS COMEUPPANCE IN EACH AND EVERY ARKHAM GAME, TBH. I mean I love Eddie lots, but MAN was he one punchable weasel in all of those games except probably Origins. Definitely helped 'inspire' you to get all of those collectables though, I'll say!

As for comfort food... Probably the coconut rice pudding I accidentally made one time? I was trying to make actual coconut rice but 'failed miserably' and made coconut rice pudding instead haha. It was GOoOOoOD THOUGH, got a stomachache from over-eating the stuff! xD)

[suchaspookyginger]

local waitress recently realized that she significantly doesn't eat enough, is trying to make up for it via high protein desserts/midnight snacks

it would be more at 11, but it's almost 1 am

[atlaculture]

What food from their 'cultures' do you think the gang would like? Real life food

Oh, this will be a fun question to answer! I'll make this an ongoing series for as many characters as I can think of.

Favorite Foods: Aang

Seeing as Aang has always loved traveling the world on Appa, he strikes me as someone who prefers food he can easily carry and eat while in the air. He's more a snack guy than a meal guy, is what I'm saying. He's also shown to be very fond of egg custard tarts and fruit pies, so I assume he also really likes rich desserts. With these considerations in mind, here's Aang's food board:

Momos - Tibetan stuffed dumplings. They're easy to carry around and eat on the go. Plus, they share a name with everyone's favorite flying lemur. I think Aang's favorite momo filling would be cheese with mushrooms or veggies.

Shom-Dae - Tibetan rice pudding. It's made by mixing fresh steamed rice with yogurt and sugar. Tibetan yogurt is made from yak milk, so it's very rich in fat content. Yogurt is so beloved in Tibet that it even has its own festival there, called Sho Dun.

Bhatsa Marku - A cheesy dessert pasta from Tibet. The primary ingredients are gnocchi-like noodles, dried yak cheese, butter, and sugar. I've also seen non-dessert versions comprised of the gnocchi noodles with mushrooms and butter. I think Aang would love both.

Chhurpi - A rock-hard cheese traditional to the Himalayas. It's typically a yak cheese that has been smoked and dried to remove all the moisture content. This allows it to be easy to carry and transport, as it can remain mold-free and edible for up to 20 years. One cube of chhurpi can be chewed on for hours, as it takes quite a while for the cheese to soften in the mouth.

Ngarchur - A dried Tibetan sweet cheese made from boiled yogurt. Like chuurpi, it's keeps well and is easy to transport, although it's not hard.

Khapse - Tibetan fried dough. Depending on how you shape the dough, it can be crunchy like chips or soft like youtiao.

Sanga Balep - A crispy Tibetan pastry covered in powdered sugar. Not much to say other than it looks really satisfying to eat.

I also have a series on possible Air Nomad cuisine here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

[requinoesis]

I know this is a weird question, but what exactly do the bigger sharks eat in your world? I know Rocky is a Great Hammerhead and they (as a species) are known to be other shark eaters, so is there like an alternative meat that they eat, or do they just stick to stingrays and bony fish?

That's a curious question, and I was quite inspired when I thought about how to answer it!✨

In the past, they used to hunt wild fish, but with the advent of the modern age, they stopped fishing and adapted entirely to the practice of pisciculture. 🐟✨

In a hypothetical future on this Earth, fish are incredibly larger and more abundant. Some have been domesticated, just as we humans used to do, and are treated with deep respect.

In order not to cover too much, I've focused only on the fish that have been domesticated for consumption in the region where my main characters live, called 'Aguazu'.🏝️✨

They are the descendants of species we know, such as Arapaima, Tuna, Tilapia, Sardines, Anchovies, Salmon, Cod, Octopus, Squid, Crab and Shrimp.

These are some of the typical dishes of the Aguazu region, most of which are variations on recipes handed down from the ancient human presence that marked this region a thousand years ago. Lots of seafood-based dishes with a spicy touch! 🌶️✨

Some of these dishes were inspired by real recipes from my country such as: Casquinha de Siri, Tuna Poke, Vatapá, Bobó de Camarão, Moqueca de Peixe, Octopus Rice, Acarajé, Cod Baked in Olive Oil, Cod Croquettes and the sweet dessert called Manjar, which is a coconut pudding with plum syrup!

Things like corn, wheat and other fruits, vegetables and animals domesticated by humans disappeared millions of years ago. So I wondered what other options they could find to use as the main ingredients.

Algae Flour, Palm Oil, Palm Butter, Coconut Milk, Palm Sugar, Domesticated Snake Eggs, Sea Salt. In the Santa Maré region, palm is widely used as the main ingredient, while other regions may prefer ingredients based on algae, for example.

Some domesticated fruits and vegetables are only used to season and enhance the flavor of dishes, but they don't make much difference to their bodies.

There was a time in the past when small and medium-sized sharks feared 'Niuhi', the name for large sharks that could devour smaller sharks such as the great white shark, great hammerhead shark, tiger shark and others.

However, this fear was unjustified, as when a smaller shark fell victim to a wild predator, the Niuhi were the first to be suspected. Fortunately, this has changed over time, although some small displays of prejudice still persist.

They eat several meals a day, and food is plentiful in this civilization, so the great sharks wouldn't need to devour their friends to satisfy their hunger, hehe.

And speaking of Roberto, my big hammerhead shark, if he gets really hungry, a Tuna Poke is enough to make him very happy and satiated! 🍣✨

[coneheads-deserved-a-noble-prize]

I AM SO TIRED OF PEOPLE ASSOCIATING ALASTOR WITH ONLY JAMBALAYA SO HERE ARE OTHER CREOLE DISHES YOU HEATHENS

Fanfiction and Comic creators, this is for you especially.

Crawfish Étouffée

This beautiful dish was invented in Breaux Bridge Louisiana, where our favourite radio star is from! Although it's invention is attributed the Herbet Hotel in the 1950s -after Alastors death- it is a classic.

Crawfish Étouffée has a sauce typically made from a blonde roux with that classic cajun seasoning. It contains the Holy Trinity of cajun cooking too: bell peppers, onions and celery. The main meat of this dish is crawfish tails and it is usually served with carbs like cornbread, cajun rice or vegetables such as green beans and potato salad.

It is chock full of flavour, and a filling inexpensive dish for low income families - which I believe Alastor is from.

Some alternatives to the crawfish are chicken and shrimp.

-----

The difference between Étouffée and Gumbo.

These two often get mixed up, and I understand, they're both classic Bayou dishes. Here's how to differentiate them.

Texture: Both dishes use shrimp, chicken, or crawfish tail broth. BUT Jumbo has a thicker consistency, it's made from a dark roux and it tends to use more liquid to remain stew-like.

Flavour: Gumbo and Étouffée both use Cajun seasoning, but due to Étouffées blonde roux, it has a lighter, sweeter taste than the darker, fullness of flavour in Gumbo.

Meat: Gumbo uses a variety of meats at the same time (often shrimp and sausage are key components), as mentioned in the alternatives above, Étouffée typically does not.

-----

2. Red Beans and Rice

We're on a roll guys! This is another dish from Louisiana! Although, it is specifically associated with New Orleans, where Alastor hosted his radio show. It has a fascinating history, partly due to it's African and French/Spanish routes - But it was also a struggle meal during the Great Depression. It was originally a Creole, not Cajun dish.

(Note: Red Beans and Kidney Beans are different legumes)

This dish also contains the Holy Trinity, as well as bay leaves, oregano, cayenne pepper, garlic powder and more. Its protein comes from Andouille sausages, but like Gumbo, a variety of meats are used. If you want Alastor to be traditional about it, he should make it on a Monday incorporating the left over ham bones from Sunday dinner. It is also complimented with long grain white rice and green beans, amongst many other things.

Considering Alastor witnessed the Stock Market Crash of 1929 -which led to the Great Depression - There is no way he hasn't come across this dish before.

3. Creole Bread Pudding

The queen of Creole Dessert has arrived. Can you guess where she's from? DING-DING-DING! That's right! New Orleans Louisiana baby! Recipes of this treat have been recorded since 1885, so it suffices to say she's a classic.

Like most bread puddings, it is made by combining stale bread (preferably French), beaten eggs and milk. However, this variation often has an incredible amount of vanilla extract. What it will be complimented with varies from person to person. Some examples are: Whipped meringue and whisky, raisins and apple, or walnuts and butter.

Although not as popular in the modern day, I like to imagine this is something Mimzy, Rosie and Alastor might share together on a day out.

-----

There you go! I hope you enjoyed this - but more importantly I hope this helps people create a more diverse version of those cosy Alastor cooking scenes that I love.

[fujoshirat]

Seasons with Shouto (❀´ ˘ `❀) *ੈ✩‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡

Springs with Shouto are sweet, like the tender caress of his hands. Greeting him at the train station with a soft peck on his cheek and walking to school under a canopy of fresh, pink flowers. The sakura trees sway in the wind while you and him walk hand in hand, the soft yet chilly breeze a remnant of winter. Springs with Shouto include walking through lush tulip fields with every color, picnic dates at the local park, and spending the entire Sunday at Disney Land. Plucking cherry blossom petals from each other’s hair and taking selfies together with Mount Fuji in the distance. A lingering kiss pressed to the back of your hand, voluntarily tying your shoelace, holding your shopping bags.

Springs with Shouto are sweet, just like him.

₊˚⊹♡

Summers with Shouto are sparkly, like bold and beautiful fireworks at the summer festivals. Wearing matching yukatas and dancing with sparklers in each hand. Late-night cramming for tomorrow’s exam–a cool hand resting on your forehead and the other holding a box of strawberry milk. Summers with Shouto include ice cream dates (he’s memorized your order), making silly paintings afterschool underneath the oak tree on campus, and picking strawberries for both of you to eat back at the dorms. Making quick midnight runs to the conbini across the street to buy the last of the cold soba and pudding and peppering his face with kisses. Watching his face erupt into a big, beautiful smile, a smile that is only reserved for you (you don’t know that, though).

Summers with Shouto are sparkly, just like his smile.

₊˚⊹♡

Autumns with Shouto are adorable, like the orange cat that you saw at the park. Wrapping his warm, maroon scarf around your neck gently, scolding you for not bringing one yourself (he’s very happy that you like it and loves that you are wearing it. Besides, he can never stay mad at his angel forever). Holding hands while walking through the colorful maple trees, all adorned in red, orange, and yellow. Baking cookies and teaching him how to make cinnamon rolls while your friends and classmates take pictures of the two of you “hogging” the kitchen. Autumns with Shouto include dressing up as vampires for the Halloween party and leaving a bold, red kiss mark on his cheek with your scarlet lipstick (he likes it, despite all of the teasing). Movie dates in your dorm room, his head tucked in the crook of your neck, his eyes wandering to your focused face as you watch the movie (you catch him staring and think that he is the cutest).

Autumns with Shouto are adorable, just like him.

₊˚⊹♡

Winters with Shouto are warm, like the heat of the fireplace in your home. Not wanting to leave Shouto alone in the dorms, you invited him to come home with you. Freshly made roasted turkey is on the dining table, the smell of kona coffee cake in the oven drifting in the air. Your family is welcoming and jolly: they cleaned the house (a miracle), your siblings didn’t bicker, and most of all, they welcomed Shouto with big smiles and open arms. The living room looks cozy due to the Christmas lights on the tree and the vibrant fire. Your home is cozy and feels like a home. Shouto supposes that this must be what a functional household’s home is like.

But where is his home? For Shouto, home isn’t the building, it isn’t where he grew up, it isn’t where he currently resides in. Home is where he feels love, comfort, joy, peace. Home for Shouto is where he feels warm. Home for Shouto is you.

Winters with Shouto are warm, and Shouto thinks that winters with you are warm, too. 

And when you both are feeling extra cold, you’ll sneak upstairs to your childhood bedroom. The smell of nostalgia hits your nose as you turn on the fairy lights to add to the homey atmosphere. The both of you will tuck in close and look out the window, admiring the soft snow falling from the sky. At 00:00 am, he’ll press his lips on yours and quietly whisper:

“Merry Christmas, my love and home.”

₊˚⊹♡

A/N: Hello everyone (◍•ᴗ•◍) Guess who woke up and wanted to write tooth-rotting fluff (I almost bawled my eyes outwriting this <3) I hope you enjoyed this mini work of mine!

News about Strawberry Magic: the epilogue will come out maybe next week if I have the time between school and sports. I would also like to try and organize my tumblr once that is up, so please bear with me (..◜ᴗ◝..) As always, thank you so much for reading my works and I hope that you enjoy them all ^^

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin .  Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image shows four small porcelain bowls of a pudding topped with slivered almonds and pomegranates seeds, seen from above. Second image is an extreme close-up showing the blue floral pattern on the china, slivered almonds, golden raisins, and pomegranate seeds on top of part of the pudding. End ID]

անուշապուր / Anush apur (Armenian wheat dessert)

Anush apur is a sweet boiled wheat pudding, enriched with nuts and dried fruits, that is eaten by Armenians to celebrate special occasions. One legend associates the dish with Noah's Ark: standing on Mt. Ararat (Արարատ լեռը) and seeing the rainbow of God's covenant with humanity, Noah wished to celebrate, and called for a stew to be prepared; because the Ark's stores were diminishing, the stew had to be made with small amounts of many different ingredients.

The consumption of boiled grains is of ancient origin throughout the Levant and elsewhere in West Asia, and so variations of this dish are widespread. The Armenian term is from "անուշ" ("anush") "sweet" + "ապուր" ("apur") "soup," but closely related dishes (or, arguably, versions of the same dish) have many different, overlapping names.

In Arabic, an enriched wheat pudding may be known as "سْنَينِيّة" ("snaynīyya"), presumably from "سِنّ" "sinn" "tooth" and related to the tradition of serving it on the occasion of an infant's teething; "قَمْح مَسْلُوق‎" ("qamḥ masluq"), "boiled wheat"; or "سَلِيقَة" ("salīqa") or "سَلِيقَة القَمْح" ("salīqa al-qamḥ"), "stew" or "wheat stew," from "سَلَقَ‎" "salaqa" "to boil." Though these dishes are often related to celebrations and happy occasions, in some places they retain an ancient association with death and funerary rites: qamh masluq is often served at funerals in the Christian town of بَيْت جَالَا ("bayt jālā," Beit Jala, near Bethlehem).

A Lebanese iteration, often made with milk rather than water, is known as "قَمْحِيَّة" ("qamḥīyya," from "qamḥ" "wheat" + "ـِيَّة" "iyya," noun suffix).

A similar dish is known as "بُرْبَارَة" ("burbāra") by Palestinian and Jordanian Christians when eaten to celebrate the feast of Saint Barbara, which falls on the 4th of December (compare Greek "βαρβάρα" "varvára"). It may be garnished with sugar-coated chickpeas and small, brightly colored fennel candies in addition to the expected dried fruits and nuts.

In Turkish it is "aşure," from the Arabic "عَاشُوْرَاء" ("'āshūrā"), itself from "عَاشِر" ("'āshir") "tenth"—because it is often served on the tenth day of the month of ٱلْمُحَرَّم ("muḥarram"), to commemorate Gabriel's teaching Adam and Eve how to farm wheat; Noah's disembarkment from the Ark; Moses' parting of the Red Sea; and the killing of the prophet الْحُسَيْن بْنِ عَلِي (Husayn ibn 'Ali), all of which took place on this day in the Islamic calendar. Here it also includes various types of beans and chickpeas. There is also "diş buğdayı," "tooth wheat" (compare "snayniyya").

These dishes, as well as slight variations in add-ins, have varying consistencies. At one extreme, koliva (Greek: "κόλλυβα"; Serbian: "Кољиво"; Bulgarian: "Кутя"; Romanian: "colivă"; Georgian: "კოლიო") is made from wheat that has been boiled and then strained to remove the boiling water; at the other, Armenian anush apur is usually made thin, and cools to a jelly-like consistency.

Anush apur is eaten to celebrate occasions including New Year's Eve, Easter, and Christmas. In Palestine, Christmas is celebrated by members of the Armenian Apostolic church from the evening of December 24th to the day of December 25th by the old Julian calendar (January 6th–7th, according to the new Gregorian calendar); Armenian Catholics celebrate on December 24th and 25th by the Gregorian calendar. Families will make large batches of anush apur and exchange bowls with their neighbors and friends.

The history of Armenians in Palestine is deeply interwoven with the history of Palestinian Christianity. Armenian Christian pilgrimages to holy sites in Palestine date back to the 4th century A.D., and permanent Armenian monastic communities have existed in Jerusalem since the 6th century. This enduring presence, bolstered by subsequent waves of immigration which have increased and changed the character of the Armenian population in Palestine in the intervening centuries, has produced a rich history of mutual influence between Armenian and Palestinian food cultures.

In the centuries following the establishment of the monasteries, communities of Armenian laypeople arose and grew, centered around Jerusalem's Վանք Հայոց Սրբոց Յակոբեանց ("vank hayots surbots yakobeants"; Monastery of St. James) (Arabic: دَيْر مَار يَعْقُوب "dayr mār ya'qūb"). Some of these laypeople were descended from the earlier pilgrims. By the end of the 11th century, what is now called the Armenian Quarter—an area covering about a sixth of the Old City of Jerusalem, to the southwest—had largely attained its present boundaries.

Throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, the Patriarchate in Jerusalem came to have direct administrative authority over Armenian Christians across Palestine, Lebanon, Egypt, and Cyprus, and was an important figure in Christian leadership and management of holy sites in Jerusalem (alongside the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches). By the middle of the 19th century, a small population of Armenian Catholics had joined the larger Armenian Apostolic community as permanent residents in Jerusalem, living throughout the Muslim Quarter (but mostly in a concentrated enclave in the southwest); in the beginning of the 20th century, there were between 2,000 and 3,000 Armenians of both churches in Palestine, a plurality of whom (1,200) lived in Jerusalem.

The Turkish genocide of Armenians beginning in 1915 caused significant increases in the populations of Armenian enclaves in Palestine. The Armenian population in Jerusalem grew from 1,500 to 5,000 between the years of 1918 and 1922; over the next 3 years, the total number of Armenians in Palestine (according to Patriarchate data) would grow to 15,000. More than 800 children were taken into Armenian orphanages in Jerusalem; students from the destroyed Չարխափան Սուրբ Աստվածածին վանք (Charkhapan Surb Astvatsatsin Monastery) and theological seminary in Armash, Armenia were brought to the Jerusalem Seminary. The population of Armenian Catholics in the Muslim Quarter also increased during the first half of the 20th century as immigrants from Cilicia and elsewhere arrived.

The immediate importance of feeding and housing the refugees despite a new lack of donations from Armenian pilgrims, who had stopped coming during WW1—as well as the fact that the established Armenian-Palestinians were now outnumbered by recent immigrants who largely did not share their reformist views—disrupted efforts on the part of lay communities and some priests to give Armenian laypeople a say in church governance.

The British Mandate, under which Britain assumed political and military control of Palestine from 1923–1948, would further decrease the Armenian lay community's voice in Jerusalem (removing, for example, their say in elections of new church Patriarchs). The British knew that the indigenous population would be easier to control if they were politically and socially divided into their separate religious groups and subjected to the authority of their various religious hierarchies, rather than having direct political representation in government; they also took advantage of the fact that the ecclesiastical orders of several Palestinian Christian sects (including the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem) comprised people from outside of Palestine, who identified with religious hierarchy and the British authorities more than they identified with the Palestinian lay communities.

British policy, as well as alienating Armenians from politics affecting their communities, isolated them from Arab Palestinians. Though the previously extant Armenian community (called "քաղաքացի" "kaghakatsi," "city-dwellers") were thoroughly integrated with the Arab Palestinians in the 1920s, speaking Arabic and Arabic-accented Armenian and eating Palestinian foods, the newer arrivals (called "زُوَّار" / "զուվվար" "zuwwar," "visitors") were unfamiliar with Palestinian cuisine and customs, and spoke only Armenian and/or Turkish. Thus British policies, which differentiated people based on status as "Arab" (Muslim and Christian) versus "Jewish," left new Armenian immigrants, who did not identify as Arab, disconnected from the issues that concerned most Palestinians. They were predominantly interested in preserving Armenian culture, and more concerned with the politics of the Armenian diaspora than with local ones.

Despite these challenges, the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem came to be a vital center of religious and secular culture for the Armenian diaspora during the British Mandate years. In 1929, Patriarch Yeghishe Turian reëstablished the Սուրբ Յակոբեանց Տպարան ("surbots yakobeants taparan"; St. James printing house); the Patriarchate housed important archives relating to the history of the Armenian people; pilgrimages of Armenians from Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt increased and the economy improved, attracting Armenian immigrants in higher numbers; Armenians held secular roles in governance, policing, and business, and founded social, religious, and educational organizations and institutions; Armenians in the Old and New Cities of Jerusalem were able to send financial aid to Armenian victims of a 1933 earthquake in Beirut, and to Armenians expelled in 1939 when Turkey annexed Alexandretta.

The situation would decline rapidly after the 1947 UN partition resolution gave Zionists tacit permission to expel Palestinians from broad swathes of Palestine. Jerusalem, intended by the plan to be a "corpus separatum" under international administration, was in fact subjected to a months-long war that ended with its being divided into western (Israeli) and eastern (Palestinian) sections. The Armenian population of Palestine began to decline; already, 1947 saw 1,500 Armenians resettled in Soviet Armenia. The Armenian populations in Yafa and Haifa would fall yet more significantly.

Still, the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem maintained its role as the center of Armenian life in Palestine; the compound provided food and shelter to thousands of Armenians during the Battle for Jerusalem and the Nakba (which began in 1948). Some Armenians formed a militia to defend the Armenian Quarter against Haganah shelling during the battle.

In the following years, historical British contributions to the shoring up of insular power in the Patriarchate would cause new problems. The Armenian secular community, no longer empowered to oversee the internal workings of the Patriarchate, could do nothing to prevent embezzling, corruption, and even the sale of church-owned land and buildings to settlers.

In 1967, Israeli military forces annexed East Jerusalem, causing another, albeit smaller, surge in Armenian emigration from the city. Daphne Tsimhoni estimates based on various censuses that the Armenian population of Jerusalem, which had reached 5,000-7,000 at its peak in 1945–6, had fallen back to 1,200 by 1978.

Today, as in the 20th century, Armenians in Jerusalem (who made up nearly 90% of the Armenian population of Palestine as of 1972) are known for the insularity of their community, and for their skill at various crafts. Armenian food culture has been kept alive and well-defined by successive waves of immigrants. As of 2017, the Armenian Patriarchate supplied about 120 people a day with Armenian dishes, including Ղափամա / غاباما "ghapama" (pumpkin stuffed with rice and dried fruits), թոփիկ / توبيك "topig" (chickpea-and-potato dough stuffed with an onion, nut, fruit, and herb filling, often eaten during Lent), and Իչ / ايتش "eetch" (bulgur salad with tomatoes and herbs).

Restaurants lining the streets of the Armenian and Christian quarters serve a mixture of Armenian and Palestinian food. Լահմաջո "lahmadjoun" (meat-topped flatbread), and հարիսա / هريس "harisa" (stew with wheat and lamb) are served alongside ֆալաֆել / فلافل ("falafel") and մուսախան / مسخن ("musakhkhan"). One such restaurant, Taboon Wine Bar, was the site of a settler attack on Armenian diners in January 2023.

Up until 2023, despite fluctuations in population, the Armenian community in Jerusalem had been relatively stable when compared to other Armenian communities and to other quarters of the Old City; the Armenian Quarter had not been subjected to the development projects to which other quarters had been subjected. However, a deal which the Armenian Patriarchate had secretly and unilaterally made with Israel real estate developer Danny Rotham in 2021 to lease land and buildings (including family homes) in the Quarter led Jordan and Palestine to suspend their recognition of the Patriarch in May of 2023.

On 26th October, the Patriarchate announced that it was cancelling the leasing deal. Later the same day, Israeli bulldozers tore up pavement and part of a wall in حديقة البقر ("ḥadīqa al-baqar"; Cows' Garden; Armenian: "Կովերի այգու"), the planned site of a new luxury hotel. On 5th November, Rothman and other representatives of Xana Gardens arrived with 15 settlers—some of them with guns and attack dogs—and told local Armenians to leave. About 200 Armenian Palestinians arrived and forced the settlers to stand down.

On 12th and 13th November, the developer again arrived with bulldozers and attempted to continue demolition. In response, Armenian Palestinians have executed constant sit-ins, faced off against bulldozers, and set up barricades to prevent further destruction. The Israeli occupation police backed settlers on another incursion on 15th November, ordering Armenian residents to vacate the land and arresting three.

On December 28th, a group of Armenian bishops, priests, deacons, and seminary students (including Bishop Koryoun Baghdasaryan, the director of the Patriarchate's real estate department) were attacked by a group of more than 30 people armed with sticks and tear gas. The Patriarchate attributed this attack to Israeli real estate interests trying to intimidate the Patriarchate into abandoning their attempt to reverse the lease through the court system. Meanwhile, anti-Armenian hate crimes (including spitting on priests) had noticeably increased for the year of 2023.

These events in Palestine come immediately after the ethnic cleansing of Լեռնային Ղարաբաղ ("Lernayin Gharabagh"; Nagorno-Karabakh); Israel supplied exploding drones, long-range missiles, and rocket launchers to help Azerbaijan force nearly 120,000 Armenians out of the historically Armenian territory in September of 2023 (Azerbaijan receives about 70% of its weapons from Israel, and supplies about 40% of Israel's oil).

Support Palestinian resistance by donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund; buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

Ingredients

180g (1 cup) pearled wheat (قمح مقشور / խոշոր ձաւար), soaked overnight

3 cups water

180-360g (a scant cup - 1 3/4 cup) sugar, or to taste

Honey or agave nectar (optional)

1 cup total diced dried apricots, prunes, golden raisins, dried figs

1 cup total chopped walnuts, almonds, pistachios

1 tsp rosewater (optional)

Ceylon cinnamon (դարչին) or cassia cinnamon (կասիա)

Aniseed (��նիսոն) (optional)

Large pinch of salt

Pomegranate seeds, to top (optional)

A Palestinian version of this dish may add pine nuts and ground fennel.

Pearled wheat is whole wheat berry that has gone through a "pearling" process to remove the bran. It can be found sold as "pearled wheat" or "haleem wheat" in a halal grocery store, or a store specializing in South Asian produce.

Amounts of sugar called for in Armenian recipes range from none (honey is stirred into the dish after cooking) to twice the amount of wheat by weight. If you want to add less sugar than is called for here, cook down to a thicker consistency than called for (as the sugar will not be able to thicken the pudding as much).

Instructions

1. Submerge wheat in water and scrub between your hands to clean and remove excess starch. Drain and cover by a couple inches with hot water. Cover and leave overnight.

2. Drain wheat and add to a large pot. Add water to cover and simmer for about 30 minutes until softened, stirring and adding more hot water as necessary.

Wheat before cooking

Wheat after cooking

3. Add dried fruit, sugar, salt, and spices and simmer for another 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until wheat is very tender. Add water as necessary; the pudding should be relatively thin, but still able to coat the back of a spoon.

4. Remove from heat and stir in rosewater and honey. Ladle pudding into individual serving bowls and let cool in the refrigerator. Serve cold decorated with nuts and pomegranate seeds.

[cottonlemonade]

Wingman On Crutches

word count: 571 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Matsukawa x chubby!Reader (feat. Parts of Seijoh 4)

genre: fluff

warnings: some swearing

request: Menu B with strawberry milk, matcha pudding and a matcha roll. I slide right next to Mattsun || fluffy, jealous classmate crush Matsukawa, as manager

“Why is she talking to him?”, Issei huffed. Iwaizumi followed his eyes and suppressed a sigh when he saw Makki talking to you somewhere on the side of the court. You were placing towels and water bottles down in pairs so the players could easily grab them.

“Because they’re friends.”, the ace observed, bouncing a volleyball off his friend’s head to get his attention back for training, “Come on, we gotta warm up.”

“If I would have twisted my ankle like that Victorian lady over there I could sit out practice and talk to y/n.”, Issei grumbled.

“Then why don’t you ask Makki to trade you his injuries for a curry bun?”, Iwaizumi asked, sarcastically.

“You‘re not funny.“

“Good, wasn‘t trying to be. - Get your ass over there so I can toss to you, come on. Don‘t make me pair up with Shittykawa.“

In view of his friend‘s nerves being on the line, Issei obliged and reluctantly turned his back to you to face Iwaizumi.

For a minute or two they threw the ball back and forth, then your distinct laugh rang through the gym and Issei all but pulled a muscle to turn around.

You were doubled over, both arms around your supremely squishy tummy as Makki continued to say something undoubtedly dumb.

“Quick, Iwa, spike the volleyball over there.“, he urged.

“Why?“

“To stop them!?“

“From… laughing?“

“YES! First it‘s laughing, then it‘s inside jokes, then it‘s hanging out just those two, then one day he’ll accidentally brush her hand while they reach for something together and boom! They’re married!“

“You really have to stop watching TV with your sister, dude.“

Before Iwaizumi could stop him, Issei called, “Yo, Makki! Hobble over here for a sec, will ya?“

Makki gave you a quick little bow, excusing himself and used his crutches to laboriously get to his friends.

“What‘s up? Want me to count or something?“

“What did you talk about with y/n?“

“What?“

“What did you say to make her laugh? You know she is off limits, dude. I called dibs like two years ago!“

Makki blinked.

“I know. I told her about that time we went to the movies and I almost wet my pants because of a jumpscare and you weren‘t even fazed by it.“

“You- you did?“

Makki nodded, “Yeah and how you helped your little brother with his school project the other week.“

“He failed that assignment.“, Matsukawa admitted quietly.

“Not the point. I was talking you up, dude! As if I‘d ever go behind your back.“ Makki used a crutch to hit his friend’s leg.

Issei rubbed his thigh and felt his eyes starting to sting.

“Bro…“

“I know, I know. I told her, you and I wanted to go to the store after practice for curry buns but I will conveniently remember that I have to get home to help my mom with dinner so you can be alone.“

Tears were definitely threatening to fall now and Issei put a hand on his friend‘s shoulder, “I love you.“

A volleyball hit Issei‘s head for a second time that afternoon and when he turned he saw Iwaizumi‘s face twitching with impatience.

Before he got back to the drills he lowered his voice and said, “Could you casually somehow slip in how intimidated all of you feel when we shower together after training?“

Makki squinted, then sighed.

“I‘ll… see what I can do.“

a/n: someone please come and collect this man.

This request is for 🫀anon. Thank you so much for this silly request! I hope it was what you imagined and thank you also for your kind words ^^ please enjoy 🌟

[yayakoishii]

Type | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Angst with Happy Ending

Warning(s): Alcohol consumption, drunken confessions

Inspired by: Your Type by Carly Rae Jepsen

Summary: You know you're not Sanji's type. Yet you also can't bring yourself to get over him. Consoling yourself with alcohol doesn't go as planned...

A/n: I'm done with Sanji fics, I say. Then I proceed to write a Sanji fic because I'm so in love with this boy it's ridiculous. Apparently all it takes is one reminder of why I love him and I'm a puddle for him again. Probably why a lot of my fics have so many compliments for him. I always want him to know how amazing he is hahaha~

also available on ao3!

The big bonfire had plunged everyone in a golden and orange hue, the warmth in the atmosphere lingering from the aftermath of another island successfully saved (and destroyed) by the Straw Hat crew. In one corner, Sanji was flirting with some girls, who were looking at him shyly and hanging on with great interest.

Somehow, it didn't feel as good as always. The blonde chef found his mind instead conjuring up your sweet smile and a giggle. Flirting with you was different. Somehow, it was the only time he felt giddy now-a-days. It was weird, but Sanji wasn't an idiot to not understand what it meant.

He knew he was falling for you and yet, he was also aware that his heart had chosen an impossible target. You were the most kind, generous and sweet person he had ever come across– and there was no way you would ever look at him as a potential partner. Sanji knew that, his brain knew that, but his heart was adamant. It has chosen and it refused to let go.

Giving up to its whims again, the chef excused himself from the ladies, who looked disappointed and tried to make him stay but he gently refused by giving some excuse and a compliment. Feeling eyes on him, Sanji looked around to find you shooting him a glare. It startled him, especially when he noticed the glass of alcohol in your hand.

You hated the bitter taste of alcohol. You never drank it and always refused it so what could have made you drink today? Sanji couldn't understand but he found his feet making way towards you the moment you swayed where you sat. His hands found purchase upon your shoulders when he was close enough and he steadied you such that you were leaning against his stomach.

You inhaled deeply, almost like you were taking in Sanji's scent, and it made a shiver run down his back.

"Sanji…" Your voice was a mere whisper in the din of the party but somehow, it reached Sanji's ears. "Take me home."

Home meant your room in the Thousand Sunny, a place Sanji had never stepped foot in. He had, at times, escorted you to the door but never went in and you had never offered either– it seemed like he would intrude on your personal space if he ever asked.

"Of course," he said quietly, carefully helping you to stand up. You never drank, but now that you had, Sanji wasn't sure if you had drunk too much or if you were a lightweight because you nearly collapsed again, giggles bubbling up your lips.

"My legs feel like jelly," you slurred towards the end, putting all your weight on Sanji, who easily held you up as you tried to straighten up. "Jelly… Milk pudding… ah, your milk pudding the other night was so good, Sanji."

"I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart," he patiently let you struggle for a while before you gave up and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Your mood swings were extreme when you got drunk, apparently. "How about I carry you back, my love?"

"Would you?" You peered up at him through your wet eyelashes and Sanji wanted to kiss your tears away. Even while crying, you were somehow the most beautiful sight with your adorable red nose, the flush of alcohol making your ears and neck and cheeks warm, droplets sticking to your eyelashes.

Without a word, he picked you up like you weighed nothing in a princess carry, and you squeaked at the sudden dizziness. Your arms automatically came to circle around his neck and Sanji hoped that you wouldn't be able to hear his heart hammering at such a close distance. You were pressed against him, and he could feel you– it was too much for his heart and he really didn't want to let you know how much of a big fat crush he had on you, lest it embarrassed him in front of you.

To you, he always wanted to appear like a cool, suave and charming guy. And yet, when you were around, he always ended up fumbling or stuttering or messing things up. The effect you had on him drove him crazy.

"You're so cool," you murmured, your lips tickling his collarbone from where they were pressed. "Your hands are always cold, did you know that, Sanji?"

"Yes," the chef smiled to himself, watching you draw hearts with your finger on his shirt. You were pouting again. "Is everything alright, love?"

"Mm?" You looked up at him, eyes wide and glossy.

"You never drink," Sanji gestured his head back towards the party, which was now quite a distance away that the noise had dwindled down. In the silence of the night, the moment felt all too personal and intimate. "Did something happen?"

"I got tired," you whispered, pausing from drawing hearts. You looked away, warm tears running down your cheeks. "It's been a bit hard these days. Love is hard, Sanji."

Sanji's heart skipped a beat at the last sentence. You were in love?

"I know I shouldn't," you continued on, no longer looking at him but at the starry sky above you, "that my feelings will just ruin everything. I know I'm not his type, and I know he will never look at me the way I want him to. I know he will only ever see me as a friend at most but God, if I just didn't love him as much I do. I want to do so many things with him, for him, to him– I want to be by his side and love him."

"He is a very lucky man," Sanji's mouth felt dry as he spoke. The food he had eaten suddenly seemed to want to come out the way it had come in and Sanji was sure that the only reason he hadn't puked yet was because you were in his arms. You, who were in love with some other man. Probably someone from the crew. (Was it Zoro? Sanji never actually hated the guy, despite his claims, but he felt like he really might resent him a little if the mosshead was the one receiving your affections.)

"Is he?" Your voice wavered. "He won't ever look at me that way. It kills me when I see him with other girls because I know he will never see me beyond a comrade because that's just how it is. I'm not, I'm not the type of girl he would fall for."

"He must be blind then," Sanji said loudly. You had reached the Sunny and got onto the deck, but he simultaneously wanted this conversation to end and not end. Who was it you liked? Zoro didn't flirt. Was it Ussop? He sometimes fooled around. "To not notice you, to not, to not realise your value." To not realise that he was a lucky bastard who got your love when Sanji would do anything for it. Anything. "W- Who…"

Sanji swallowed the lump in his throat before trying again.

"Who is he?"

You didn't answer for a few seconds. He tried to gauge out your reaction and found that you looked angry. Your mood swings were really extreme.

"I hate you," you hit Sanji's chest without any real power in it. The words were like a slap to Sanji, who looked at you heart-broken. You were angry, but you were still crying. "I wish I could mean that. I wish I could look at you and not constantly feel so in love with you. I wish you were mean or horrible or a jerk so I could get over you but you're, you're kind. You're sweet. You treat me like I'm the most precious and important person to grace the earth. You comfort me and you hold me and you flirt but never force anything on me. You're a gentleman, you're caring and I see you. I see who you are and I fall in love. I'm sorry, Sanji, I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for ruining everything, for taking advantage of your kindness, but I can't make it stop. I can't–"

You sucked in a deep breath, scratching at Sanji to let him let you down. The chef did so, too shocked to say or do anything else.

"I can't look at you and not love you, Sanji," you whispered, eyes reflecting a broken and sad look. "I'm sorry I love you."

For a few seconds he didn't know what to say, brain trying to catch up with everything you had said. Him. You loved him. Not someone else, him.

You seemed to take his silence as your answer and turned around to leave but Sanji panicked and tugged at your hand, making you bump into his chest. His hands came around you in a circle, holding you with a desperation he didn't know he had in him.

"Don't be," he said breathlessly, feeling winded from the rush of his own feelings and thoughts. "Don't be sorry for making my dream come true, not when all I have wanted is for you to love me back. And don't be sorry for entrusting your heart to me. I swear, sweetheart, if you would let me, I'll take so good care of it. I'll never let you regret it. So please, give me your heart. Because I already gave you mine without either of us knowing."

You chuckled, the daze of having your love returned making everything feel unreal. You turned around and got on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his lips.

"Silly boy, it was always yours to begin with."

Sanji's heart was still hammering as he looked at you giving him a sweet smile and pulling him into a hug. You stayed like that for a few minutes, just the two of you under the stars on an empty ship, swaying lightly to inaudible music. A few moments passed before Sanji realised that your breath was evened out– you had fallen asleep in his arms.

That made him laugh, looking at your peaceful and smiling face burrowed in his chest, right next to his heart. Remembering what you had said before, Sanji carefully tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Then silly girl, you should know you were always my exact type, to begin with."

°•❀•°

Taglist:

@phantasmagoricalzenith | @secretlife028 | @100520s | @toertchen | @suga-tofu | @theluckyplaces | @luvfzw | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki

all likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ♡

[johannestevans]

Yentl: A Trans Man Studying Talmud is Distracted by Gay Thoughts

Yentl (1983, dir. Barbra Streisand) and Yentl the Yeshiva Boy by Isaac Bashevis Singer.

Any of us would be distracted from study by Mandy Patinkin. Via IMDb.

It’s a sad thing, hearing cisgender people talk about Yentl — especially the short story — and think they understand it, that they’re getting everything from it, while at the same time, they can’t conceive that transgender people even exist.

It’s a strangely joyful short story to read as a trans man, as sad and complex as it is, and the film has a similar bittersweet warmth to it.

“Yentl — you have the soul of a man.” “So why was I born a woman?” “Even Heaven makes mistakes.”

From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer

At the beginning of Yentl (1983), we see Barbra Streisand as the titular Yentl walking around in Yanev, ostensibly to buy groceries — including a fish — for dinner. She’s bored and distracted as the other women discuss how to study a fresh fish or how to distinguish between the different types — the bookseller is coming through town, calling out that he has novels and picture books for women and sacred books for men.

Yentl approaches the bookseller and surreptitiously takes one book from the men’s shelf, a book exploring the mysticism of creation and the similar mysticism of language that was being discussed by some yeshiva students a moment ago, and the bookseller interrupts her — “You’re in the wrong place, Miss. Books for women are over there.”

He tells her it’s the Law that women can’t study such books; she retorts, “Where is it written?”; he says, “Never mind where: it’s a Law.”

She says the book is for her father, Reb Mendel, and the bookseller finally relents, whereupon she goes home and reads the book herself.

Mendel is a widower, and although he scolds Yentl gently for not being an adept cook and tells her that studying is for men and not for women, he studies with her anyway and teaches her — it makes Yentl the subject of gossip in town, with one of Reb Mendel’s students remarking that his father says a woman who studies Talmud is a demon — it doesn’t help that Yentl is unmarried.

From the short story:

But Yentl didn’t want to get married. Inside her, a voice repeated over and over: “No!” What becomes of a girl when the wedding’s over? Right away she starts bearing and rearing. And her mother-in-law lords it over her. Yentl knew she wasn’t cut out for a woman’s life. She couldn’t sew, she couldn’t knit. She let the food burn and the milk boil over; her Sabbath pudding never turned out right, and her challah dough didn’t rise. Yentl much preferred men’s activities to women’s.

From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer

As a trans man, I’m always keenly aware of the things many of us cite in childhood of the first things we knew weren’t right for us and the things that were — Yentl has no skills that should be right for a woman, mentions that she cannot sew or knit or cook, and she prefers to study.

Many of us played with “boy’s toys” or took interest in “boy’s activities” instead of girl’s ones, wore “boy’s clothes” and did “boy things” — the label as to the boyishness or girlishness to most of these being arbitrary.

But Yentl’s first thought here is the rebellion in it — not only will she be forced to begin bearing children and raising them by the circumstances of her marriage, but she’ll be forced to submit to her mother-in-law’s will and orders.

In my experience as a trans man, cis men are rarely the biggest enforcers of the gender binary, nor the ones who most policed my incorrect or flawed gender expression as a child.

When cishet men do complain and correct gendered behaviour, it’s often to do with what they perceive as a desirable woman or girl being kept from them — their complaints are far more to do with dress or physical appearance because, to a cishet man, the first thing that matters in a woman is her sexual availability and her aesthetic value, particularly in regards to her sexual appeal.

Cishet women’s aggressive and virulent desire to correct what they feel are gender transgressions are more subtle than that and are far more about the deeper social value a woman holds — about her ability to cook and clean, to raise children, to exist in a space with other women, to manage the men in her life and to willingly submit to parenting adult men as if they’re also her children.

What would Yentl experience from her mother-in-law? Picks not just at her appearance but at her behaviour, her priority, and her thoughts. It’s not enough to perform gender correctly — they want you to internalise it and to be entirely beaten down with it.

All your thoughts as a cishet woman, especially in a traditional M/F marriage, should be about the men around you and their needs — sacrificing your own needs and desires should come naturally to you. A lot of cishet mothers will completely confidently say that sacrifice of the self, of personal identity, of privacy, of rest, is an integral part of motherhood, and they will become very angry at the idea that it isn’t, or that it shouldn’t be — pointing out that the same expectations are not made of fatherhood will if anything make them angrier, and they’ll say blandly that men and women are different, and refuse any further word about it.

Why are men and women different?

They just are.

Why do they have to be?

They just are.

There was no doubt about it, Yentl was unlike any of the girls in Yanev — tall, thin, bony, with small breasts and narrow hips. On Sabbath afternoons, when her father slept, she would dress up in his trousers, his fringed garment, his silk coat, his skullcap, his velvet hat, and study her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a dark, handsome young man. There was even a slight down on her upper lip.

From Yentl the Yeshiva Boy, by Isaac Bashevis Singer

Obviously, trans men and mascs’ gender shouldn’t be judged by the extent of their ability to pass, but a thing that I really like about this aspect of Singer’s short story is that it puts aside the argument of sex essentialism.

“Men and women are different, and you can tell they are different because they look different — if they were meant to be the same, why wouldn’t they look the same?”

And here, Yentl has the soul of a man, and his body is not wholly that of a woman’s and can easily be “disguised” as a man’s because it already has some men’s characteristics — tall, thin, bony, not much to the chest, without the wide, child-bearing hips people often want or expect of a cisgender woman. Once Yentl is dressed in the right clothes, she looks like a dark, handsome young man.

If men and women are truly so irrevocably different, if they are truly two sides of a wide binary with a great chasm between them, everyone would always be able to tell trans people and crossdressers and intersex people and anyone else outside or in-between from a line-up, and you can’t.

Read on Patreon / Read on Medium

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi i was wondering if you could maybe write a clarisse la rue x reader fluff and the reader uses they/them pronouns?

Soft!Clarisse incoming!!! 🦦

‘Ow…’ you groaned as you accidentally moved in a way that didn’t agree with your plethora of injuries as you tried to relax in the medbay. ‘That didn’t go exactly to plan did it?’

Clarisse raised her brows, ‘you think?’ She said incredulously as she gestured to your state as though the answer was blatantly obvious. ‘You almost got yourself skewered out there if I weren’t there to step in.’

‘My hero, always there to save her damsel in distress.’ You laughed lightly but immediately came to regret it when your midsection began to ache and flare up with pain. Clarisse snorted as she reached for the glass of ambrosia from the bedside table, adjusting the straw so that it would be easier for you to take sips from as strawberries, chocolate milk and warm sticky toffee pudding filled your sense. ‘More like pain in my ass who actively tries to test the fates by getting themselves killed.’

‘Isn’t that just the regular demi-god experience?’ You asked, trying to make the situation more lighthearted, but all you could think was how Lilly you were for Clarisse being there when you needed her most. You didn’t like to think of what would’ve happened had you been completely and utterly separated from her and Silena Beauregard; it scared you too much to imagine it and you preferred not to even bother enticing the dark thought. ‘But thank you, for saving me and all…I-‘

‘Don’t.’ Clarisse cut you off.

‘But-‘

‘I said don’t.’ She said more firmly as she stared at you with eyes filled with fury and worry. ‘Don’t you even think it, say it or otherwise. You’re here and you’re safe and that’s all that should matter, understand?’ You smiled sadly at her and reached for her hand, wiggling your fingers at her to take your hand and audibly sighed in relief when she did, her thumb providing you some comfort by caressing the back of your hand; It was weird for a child of ares to be so uncharacteristically soft and gentle but you loved the fact that you were possibly the only person that Clarisse felt comfortable with in seeing her this way.

After all you and Clarisse has this weird will they, won’t they thing going off ever since you bested her in training once on a whim.

‘I understand.’ You said softly, squeezing her hand to reassure her that you were real, that you were with her, that she did arrive in time to stop the killing blow and finished the fight with a rage and absolute ruthlessness of which you have never seen before until then. It was frightening but at the end of the day she was still your Clarisse.

‘Good.’ Clarisse grunts, looking away from you to scratch the brim of her nose, a habit you’ve noticed in recent days that she only did when she was nervous. Really nervous. ‘Good.’ She reiterated, squeezing your hand for good measure. ‘Now get some rest.’ You must’ve looked as though you were about to have a panic attack at the thought of being left alone because Clarisse then added. ‘I’m not going anywhere, you just look exhausted and besides,’ she smiled, ‘I have to keep my damsel in distress safe as they slumber after all.’

You smiled back at her and fell into a relaxed enough state to fall asleep but before you did, you muttered sleepily. ‘My knight in shining armour.’

[borbygorlinbbqworld]

The Roommate - 1

When you were down on your luck, your best friend had really helped you out. Instead of being left homeless, you could roommate with Rob's younger sister, whom you hadn't seen in years.

"My only rule," he had warned, "Is no fucking her."

It hadn't been a thought you'd ever assumed would cross your mind at the time.

But boy, had the last few years been kind to Nea. No longer the little girl you and your friend teased for having glasses, she had really changed physically.

The day you met her again after all those years, you had to do your best not to stare. Even months later, it was still challenging not to.

But how could you not?

As she walked into the kitchen, her massive breasts swallowed up her torso, soaked at the teat. Each step jostled them, often making her nipples hard; of course, you only knew this because she refused to wear wired or padded bras despite her endowment. Her areolas puffed through the shirt too; what you wouldn't give to just squeeze them once...

She brought in a case of filled baby bottles be put in the fridge specifically reserved for milk. Your own fridge was scarce; after losing your home, money had been tight, and buying groceries had become a luxury.

"Shit, there's no more room..."

Of course there wasn't.

You admittedly didn't know much about breastfeeding or pumping milk, but you did know her supply was fucking insane. There didn't seem to be a single time of day when she didn't exude hormones, so it was no surprise her massive mommy milkers would have made a dairy cow jealous.

She turned to you, her eyes wide and doeful. "Did the hospitals not come to pick up today?"

You shook your head. "Bank holiday."

"Shoot." She looked down at the bottles of milk in the crate propped against her hip. "Do you have room in your fridge?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Thanks."

The sway and motion of her breasts as she walked was hypnotizing. She started putting away the bottles. "What are you up to, anyway?"

"I'm supposed to bring in a bread pudding dessert for work tomorrow, so working on that... and stressing out."

She finally finished loading all her milk into your fridge. Eight bottles after having already fed a growing baby seemed like a lot, yet her milk-stained shirt suggested she had continued to leak even after the pumping session. How fucking full must those huge--

"Jake?"

Your dick twitched at the sound of your name from her. Man, those tits were distracting.

"Y-Yeah?" You did your best to look away, hoping she hadn't seen you staring.

Again.

She walked behind you, and started rubbing your shoulders. Sure, they had been stiff from stress, but it was nothing compared to what you felt in your suddenly very restrictive jeans.

"I asked why you were stressed." As she continued rubbing your shoulders, you felt the warm squish of her breasts against your back.

'Don't you even think about fucking my sister!' It had been Rob's one rule; was it really so hard to keep from thinking about it? Your cock pressed against the fabric of your jeans, begging to get out.

Sidestepping away from Nea, you kept your eyes trained downward. "Oh uhh... I didn't have the money to grab all the ingredients I need."

"Maybe I can lend you some. What are you missing?"

"Whole milk."

"Oh shoot. I don't think I have any, I'm sorry."

Her voice was sincere; she genuinely was sorry for being unable to help.

"If... if you're really stuck though..."

You sighed. "I am."

A cute, almost devilish smile played on her lips. "Well, breast milk has a slightly higher fat content than whole milk. And you can technically bake with it."

Your dick twitched again.

Despite the eight bottles Nea had produced not even an hour ago, her tits somehow looked full. Her mammaries spilled out the front and sides of her tiny nursing bra, and her swollen areolas and nipples stretched it to being nearly see through. Just then, you notice blossoming damp spots where her nipples are trying to poke out just as much as your dick is begging to.

How were they so full already?!

Still, she couldn't be serious...

Yet there she was, offering herself...

Well, her milk, anyway. But fuck, that was still so hot...

She brushed her copper hair behind her ear, her cheeks a tinge of pink. "I-if you wanted, anyway. No pressure."

Your friend's voice, ranting about his rule played on loop on your mind. But was using his sister's breastmilk really the same thing?

"Okay, thanks. Should I use the fresh stuff or older in the fridge?"

You asked it, but the whole time, your gaze was transfixed on the wet patches that had started to drip from her shirt.

'Stop staring!' you chided yourself. You look back up at her eyes, pleading she hadn't noticed.

She very much did. With a smirk, she met your gaze, then looked down at her massive tits. Taking one in her hand, she massaged it a bit, making the blue veins more prominent each time she added pressure.

"I was thinking, maybe you wanted a taste test before baking with it." A spurt of milk gushed through the fabric of the nursing bra as she squeezed, no doubt mirroring the precum you felt moistening your boxers.

It was all you could do to stand there and breathe. All the blood from your brain had clearly vacated to the spot that had won over.

More over, you could barely adjust yourself when she finally noticed how hard you were.

She pulled the nursing bra over her massive breasts; it was the first time you'd seen her completely bare, and her dripping cherry nipples made you realize how dumb the promise to your friend had really been.

All you wanted was to suck that woman's teets dry, and to bury your cock and seed in her.

"Tell you what..." She grabbed your arm and led you to the living room. Despite each step being dainty, there was no way for her to walk without her tits swaying.

When she sat on the very last cushion of the couch, her breasts lay in her lap. She patted the seat right next to her. "Tell you what. It looks like we could both use some relief. Come; lay your head on my lap, and we'll kill two birds with one stone."

Your cock ached with the promise, begging you to submit to anything that may have led with her hands covered in your seed.

You nodded, but stayed where you were.

'Don't you even think about fucking my sister!'

Guilt must have crossed your features, because when you looked back at her face, she stared up at you innocently.

"Think of it as a favour to me." She looked down and pressed two fingers against an engorged blue vein; a tiny squirt of milk sprayed her lap. "If you don't, these will literally just be leaking all night again..." She looked up at you again, dew eyed. "Please Jake... I'm so full..."

Well, if she insisted...

---

🐮❤️

[sugarydolli]

Pudding.

Delicate, soft, and spongy in all its nature, made from the simplest of ingredients consisting of milk, sugar, and eggs.

Strangely, Katsuki couldn't make pudding.

He was actually rather embarrassed about the fact; huge blow to his ego considering how easy it is to make. Either he burned it or it fell apart as soon as he flipped the mold over, he just couldn't get this right.

The instructions were simple; pour sugar into a dry stainless steel saucepan and cook the sugar over medium heat—stirring occasionally for five minutes; carmel. the smell that was radiating off him after asking you to meet him after class.

Heat the milk and heavy cream in a saucepan, adding whisked milk and sugar to the mixing once hot, adding a dash of vanilla and whisking together; custard. vanilla wafting into his nose just as strong as your perfume oil, only missing that signature powdery note.

Divide both the caramel and custard into molds— place the molds into an oven-safe container and add hot water—bake in the oven for thirty minutes then let cool; wait. the dreaded waiting game Katsuki loathed, unsure if his hard work was worth it, if it even mattered? Would the mold hold up right? Did he bake it long enough? Was he not meant for pudding? Was he meant for you?

His heart pounded fiercely against his chest, blood rushing to his ears depleting all sound, questions fired off so quickly in his head, he was spinning. Hands shaking slightly as he gently tilted over the mold, giving a gentle but firm pat to the top. Until a plop hit the plate underneath.

୨୧

"'suki—"

A meek voice interrupted his train of thought, idly reaching for his backpack and pulling out a pink small container, there revealed the perfectly crafted soft treat.

"You know, It's a shame you couldn't even make such a simple recipe by yourself-"

But he's cut off by the various string of praises that fall out your lips, face buried into his neck, arms wrapped firmly around his neck as a small smile found its way on his face.

Katsuki was meant for pudding.

୨୧

bye-bye ♡(>ᴗ•)/☆*:.｡