#one I baked

[cupcakeinat0r]

Just wanna get on here n wish mi Esposito a very Happy Birthday <3

Te amo mucho, mi bebesito muy precioso y tan hermoso, el mas cariño de todo el mundo mi principito tan lindo tu eres un bendicion mas grande en mi vida mi amor, te quiero y te extraño, Que dios te bendiga, mi corazon, mwah ‼️

[bakedbeanchan]

random fire nation diplomat #492 will never understand the complex and fucked up relationship between the water siblings like I do 🙄

[canisalbus]

✦ Bread ✦

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

Dinosaur freezes a large amount of food and considers himself very well prepared indeed to recover from surgery.

(I don't normally add patreon links to posts, but I will this time since I'm about to miss a few weeks of work. Thank you to my patrons for making that a less bad thing financially than it would be otherwise!)

[seaquestions]

this is getting dangerous, wouldn't you say?

[ID: a black & white painting of a man smoking in a bathtub & a robot sitting on the edge of the tub, tucking the man's hair behind his ear. the man's eyes are obscured by the robot's arm. he also has his hand on one of the robot's thighs. End ID]

[oscillatedself]

lesbian werewolf call that dykeanthropy. is this anything

[hinamie]

thank u canon plant nerd megumi for my life

bonus:

[thuesdaynightdykelife]

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in grandmas florals and a vintage cut. Smelling like thrift stores and books and dried flowers.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in the macarbe. Art filled red with blood, and wardrobe filled black and silver. Jars of bones and hair and herbs.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in nature's song. The howl of the wind. The bold heat of the sun on their skin, and the smell of eucalyptus and petrichor.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in the sweat on their brow and the strength of their lift. The rush of adrenaline and endorphins. The beauty in their form and focus.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in the tap of their heels on tiles. The way their voice commands a room. Warm printer ink, signature signed.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in the paint on your apron and the beadwork your mother taught you. The songs you made up with your cousins over your childhood summers will be the lullabies your children fall asleep to.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in the layer of fat on top of your soup, the bubbling of yeast and the smell of onion, garlic, and rosemary.

Here's who the femmes who's expression lies in the strum of the bass and the bang of the drum. Grimey venues with sticky floors, full of screaming, sweat, and fiery passion.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in decedant fabrics galore. Velvets and satins and ruffles and lace. Rhinestones and ribbons. Leather and linens.

Here's to femmes whose expression lies in enjoying the simplicities of life. The smell of the jasmine tree on the walk home from book club. The changing of the leaves. The way their barista knows them by name.

Here's to the femmes whose expression lies in comfort and care. The softness they've carved for themselves. Matching pajamas and mismatched socks. Home is where the heart is, and where goldilocks finds her "just right."

[arttsuka]

I made @wolfythewitch 's fox Bill design out of polymer clay

It's pretty thin (so thin I'm afraid it'll snap in half anytime I lift it)

Front and back side:

[andyridgeley]

me everyday

[bakedbeanchan]

Sokka and Yue reuniting in the spirit world

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[kedreeva]

You can hear this bread. One second I'll show you. Please listen to my bread

This is a loaf of asiago chunk sourdough. Inside there are chunks of asiago. The dough was mixed with mashed garlic as well. The sound in the video is the cheese bubbling in the interior, echoing in the air pockets of the loaf. I'm going to eat the shit out of this for breakfast tomorrow.

This is the world's easiest sourdough loaf too, with only 6 hours total rising/proofing time!

Ingredients:

455g white bread flour

1 tsp sea salt

285g warm water

100g active, bubbly starter

120g Asiago cheese

(optional) crushed garlic to taste (I use about 2 cloves worth and it's a lot)

Asiago chunk sourdough bread

Cut asiago into smallish chunks

Combine flour and salt in one bowl

Combine starter and water in another bowl, stir until starter is dissolved.

Mix flour into the wet mixture until a dough begins to form. Knead on a well-floured surface until dough is smooth.

Mix in cheese (and garlic) until well incorporated

Dust rising bowl (solid! Not a basket!) with flour. Let dough rise 1 hour in warm spot, covered with plastic wrap

Fold over around the edges, place back in bowl seal-side down for 1 more hour

Repeat folding over around the edges, place back in bowl seal-side down for 1 more hour (3 total rising hours to here)

Shape dough into round if not, and place into proofing basket for 3 hours. Toward the end of this, preheat oven to 450F, with the cast iron pot so it's HOT when you add the dough.

Dump your dough onto your kneading board, fold over around the edges one more time, slice the top DEEPLY.

Bake 30 minutes seam-side down in covered cast iron pot at 450F. Remove lid, bake for another 30-40 minutes with lid off. (Cook time may vary on location and oven... MY OVEN takes this long. I just baked a loaf at a friend's that baked WAY differently, it was done in about 40 minutes total)

Remove and let cool completely before slicing. You can freeze it but slice it first.

[classicslesbianopinions]

actually, i should just say this in its own post--if you're ever looking for a translation of anything ancient greek, ian johnston has a ton of translations that are both genuinely good and completely free to read. a lot of the time free translations are really old or just not that good but this man has translated, like, everything from homer to sophocles to kafka to nietzche and he's done it extremely well. i didn't think he had an antigone but i just looked and not only does he have one but it's genuinely very good. so i highly recommend his website as a resource!

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.