#shaped bit of butter on it..... weird

[c-kiddo]

felt so immensely neutral on valentines day this year that when i thought about it i enjoyed a moment of silence, peace and tranquility

[roseflirt]

𝒰 𝒮𝒪. . . 𝒫𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒯𝒴, ellie williams

black!fem!reader does bsf!ellie’s make up for fun. friends to lovers. yearning. i typed ‘doll’ instead of y/n, replace with ur name. wc 1.5k this is a reupload from my old account!

ellie had no idea why she even agreed to this. she tended to be much more easy-going when she was high, but still. she hated make-up. she absolutely loathed the way it felt on her skin. it felt like a mask — thick, heavy. felt like her pores were suffocating on whatever chemicals made up the composition of the products. and god… don’t get her started on cleaning it off. so much of it was meant to be waterproof or long wear, getting rid of make-up was almost as deliberate of an effort as putting it on.

but then her olive eyes flickered up to catch her face. doll. and the meaning found ellie. suddenly, it all made sense why ellie agreed to letting her make-up-loving best friend play around on her canvas.

doll only wore an absent-minded smile, holding ellie’s soft face in her fingertips as she used a weird egg-shaped sponge to press the concealer into her under eye. pleasantly oblivious. it’s like the pretty woman had blinders on. her gaze was fixed on the little space beneath ellie’s eyes and she was so deeply absorbed into the process of achieving an “airbrushed finish,” she didn’t notice ellie melting to her touch like putty. she didn’t notice those very green-colored marbled eyes drinking her in.

from doll’s beautiful sun-kissed brown complexion… to her thick, dark coils put up in a pineapple bun… to the acrylic nails ellie could feel slightly pressing into the flesh of her cheek… to that playfully delicate smile on her plump, glossy lips… to the silage of spicy sweetness enveloping the both of them. even the dreamy, watery sound of kelela playing from ellie’s bedroom bluetooth as the two of them shared the space of her bathroom — ellie sitting on the sink, doll’s waist wedged between her thighs.

it made sense now.

“i didn’t put a lot of concealer ‘cuz,” doll began, her voice as soft as her fingertips, “i wanted to show your freckles.” she continued pressing the sponge into ellie’s under eyes. “i really like them.”

ellie felt herself melting even more. she was sure doll would be able to feel and see the heat pooling in her pale cheeks — a recipe composed of three ingredients: shock, fondness, and embarrassment.

“really?” ellie cautioned. “i used to get made fun of for my freckles… i kinda didn’t like them.”

doll’s face contorted into an expression of disapproval as she pulled her hands away from ellie’s face and set the beauty blender back into her make-up box.

“they’re cute,” she affirmed and shifted through her box in search of a lip product.

ellie for sure was blushing. “thank you.”

the girl only beamed. her chestnut face radiated such a glow and warmth, it was infectious. she was like the sun. “you’re welcome, el’.” then she grabbed the product she was looking for — her nyx liner and a nyx butter gloss.

setting the gloss down, doll picked the liner up and returned her decorated fingers to ellie’s warm chin (the blushing heated her entire face). then doll brought herself closer to ellie… squeezing between her legs as she lowered the pencil onto her lip. gently, she swiped the colored tip along her skin.

“we’re almost done…” she muttered softly. “just the lips now…”

the paler girl’s entire body grew hot. doll was sooo close, ellie could see the beauty marks speckled around her eyes. her lashes were thick, long, and curly… framing those sweet irises of hers. and those irises were trained on her lips… attentively lining them with a pencil. having such a pretty girl focusing so much attention on her mouth made her a bit nervous. ellie wasn’t undisciplined around attractive women. but this was different. she was different.

“open your mouth a little…” doll instructed. and ellie found herself thoughtlessly obeying, parting her lips slightly so that doll could more easily access the corners of her lips. “good…”

oh god. ellie felt her eyebrows furrow at the hushed praise. she never really was the type of person to just obey someone else. she’s always been headstrong and a bit stubborn. but doll had powers over her that were unheard of. doll could tell ellie to move the ocean with a fork and ellie would do just that.

the coily-headed girl slightly blurred the lining of the pencil with the pad of her thumb. ellie only froze at the contact. and began imagining that the digit was instead doll’s lips — they were so plush, full, and juicy. she wondered how it felt to kiss her.

then doll set the pencil down and exchanged it for the gloss. it was peachy with a touch of red. she loosened the top and then raised her hand up to ellie’s lips. slowly, she painted them with the creamy substance.

“pretty,” doll praised with a smile beginning to spread across her face as the look finally came together. she pulled the applicator away and fastened it closed, wearing a proud expression as she marveled at her work.

it was a soft make-up look, since doll knew ellie hated make-up. “clean girl,” as they say on tiktok. no foundation, just a skin tint. some light concealer. a bit of mascara. some rosy blush and that to die for lip combo. it was worn well on ellie’s face — a nice little complement to her features without overpowering them and overwhelming her.

ellie felt like a deer in headlights. like an alien. she had never been someone’s muse before, so the praises were foreign. she only slouched as she sat on her sink, interlocked her hands together in her lap as she nervously wriggled her toes. her shoulders were high. poor baby was nervous.

“you look so cute,” doll gushed. she noticed that ellie seemed to feel a bit unnerved by the spotlight. but doll couldn’t help but profess how she felt. ellie only awkwardly half-smiled in response, to which doll rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around ellie’s wrist, tugging it as if to pull her beside her.

“come down, ellie. turn around.”

once again, ellie mindlessly obliged and pushed herself off of the sink counter, easily towering over doll. but the shorter girl’s big spirit made ellie feel a bit… small. not in a bad way… but more like the whole world was doll, and ellie was her satellite.

doll wrapped her arms around ellie’s arm comfortingly with a beaming expression. “look at yourself. you are so cute.”

ellie hesitantly looked up into the mirror, standing awkward as ever. she held the hem of her hoodie’s sleeves in the palm of her hands and raised her gaze to her face. and the reflected image staring back at her was someone she could barely register as herself. she was so used to her bare face that such slight changes in her appearance could almost disorient her, but it wasn’t a negative experience. being so close to doll… ellie could even smell the strawberry conditioning deep mask in doll’s curly tendrils. feeling those soft hands on her face as she stood between ellie’s thighs. it was a core memory.

her rosy-painted cheeks merely imitated her actual flush. at her reflection, she could only offer an awkward little smile. like she was reluctant to admit she actually did look pretty cute. unlike herself, but cute. in a way, her head seemed like it was borrowed from another body in comparison to her hoodie, band tee shirt, and ripped jeans. but it was her.

doll’s own painted face smiled up at her. a soft glam. glitzy and doll-like. beautiful as ever. maxi dress-adorned body molded into ellie’s side. in many ways, they opposed each other. but ellie couldn’t help but love to see them side by side.

“yeah, it does look good,” ellie had to agree. then she pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked down at her friend. “thank you.”

doll’s eyebrows cautiously furrowed. her happy smile became a bit insecure as she removed herself from ellie’s side. “do… do you like it? you don’t sound very happy.” oh god her voice sounded so small, it physically hurt.

ellie’s eyes widened. “no no no! i love it! you did amazing,” she reassured. then her expression became bashful. “i’m just not used to seeing myself like this.”

doll looked at her curiously as she walked over to the bathroom sink and began assorting her make-up products back into the little container. “like what?” she was turned away from ellie, but they could still see each other in the bathroom mirror.

ellie flushed. “you know… all pretty and stuff.”

doll halted as if she were being insulted. her eyes flicked up into the reflective surface, meeting ellie’s gaze. doll’s face was doused in a somber sincerity and her lips formed a slight pout.

then she turned around to look ellie in her face. ellie’s eyes widened in response to those big, doe-like eyes fluttering up at her like butterfly wings. but doll didn’t react to that. she only shook her head to ellie’s statement and what it implied. then candidly, she corrected her friend.

“you are pretty, ellie. really pretty.”

ellie felt like her insides turned to mush. her breath got caught in her throat as it hitched, and she felt her palms grow a bit moist as her whole body heated in response to her words.

“really?” ellie questioned, feeling her cheeks blush beneath the rare beauty applied to them.

doll nodded. “mhm.” she licked her lips. “you are.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Blast to the past

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 15

Prompt: Time travel

Rated: T

CW: Mild blood and gore; Mild horror; Monsters

Tags: Steve Harrington whump; Magic; Time travel (duh); Royal Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington needs a break

Notes: Some days, you get up, think of nothing bad, and you check your phone and your artist buddy @house-of-the-moving-image has sent you the most incredible mini comic in the world and the brainworms go crazy and you bash out 990 words in a weird fugue. We mayyy have been screaming about this to each other a bit too excessively. It may have grown a back story. I may wanna write 100k of this. Help.

“Oh, Steven, let's go to Europe, they said,” Steve grouses. “There’s culture and shit, they said. We can visit the castles. It’ll be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, they said.” 

Well, it damn well is turning out to be one hell of an experience! 

His side is on fire, his ankle stings with every step he hobbles, and he’s starting to bleed through his clothes. Just what he needs! Leave a warm, coppery trail to lead these things right to him. 

While he drags himself down the dark corridor, he wonders if he can sue. The guides did warn against leaving the travel group, on the one hand. 

On the other, they should probably have detailed the possible consequences. Like getting lost in the ruins and being chased by monsters with rotting grey skin and maws full of fangs, and fucking claws that slice through clothes and skin like a knife through butter.

This kind of shit never happens in Hawkins. He’s never going on holiday with his parents again.

Something behind him clatters. When he whips around, the shadows at the end of the corridor move. He hears snarls and sniffing, the tick of claws against stone. They’re coming closer. 

“Shit,” Steve swears, forces himself to go faster, using one hand against the wall for support. “Shit, shit, shit, c’mon!” 

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, just that he needs to get away if he doesn’t want to be monster fodder. 

His fingers catch on something. 

There’s … a narrow doorway in the wall, half hidden by a tangle of thick vines. A sliver of silver light is falling through it. 

“What the-” 

Something behind him shrieks triumphantly. 

Steve doesn’t think for another second, just ducks through the doorway. 

He finds himself in a cavernous room, moonlight trickling in through arched windows. Right in the middle, on a dais, is a throne carved from solid stone. On it is a tall, hooded figure. 

Except that isn’t true. As his eyes adjust to the light, he realizes that the throne is covered in what looks like an old shroud, tattered and torn with age and vaguely human-shaped. It’s overgrown by more vines, like it has been here for a very long time. 

And that is the moment the monsters slam into the doorway behind him. 

He yelps and stumbles further into the room, trips on the first steps of the dais and lands square on his ass. The monsters snarl and snap at him, and for a blissful second, he thinks they won’t fit through the doorway. 

But then the first distorts its body like a snake’s jaw and squeezes through. Steve watches in horror as they trickle inside, surrounding the dais like a pack of feral dogs. One of them swipes at him with its claw, and he instinctively shuffles up the stairs, backwards and on all fours. The monster lunges after him-

-and hesitates at the foot of the dais.

Like it’s afraid, like there’s some invisible barrier. 

It’s only now that he realizes the steps are inlaid with an intricate pattern of symbols, shining in the moonlight like liquid silver. The monsters try to get at him, but every time they touch the symbols, they recoil as if burned. 

“Ha!” Steve’s mouth tugs into a hysterical grin. “Can’t cross, huh? Well, too bad, you ugly-” 

The largest of the monsters steps over the barrier. A sizzle of silver sparks runs over its form as it does and it jowls like an injured cat, but it still advances. Steve swears and skitters further back, until his back hits something solid. The throne. 

The creatures are moving slowly, like something is physically holding them back, but they are gaining on him inch by inch. There’s no escape, except … 

Steve clambers onto the throne with clumsy limbs. The shroud is cold and brittle under his hands and the vines tear into his bleeding skin, but it’s the only place he can still go. If the monsters are afraid of the dais, maybe the throne will be enough to deter them. Maybe he’ll be safe here, maybe he can wait until help arrives, maybe- 

And then it happens. 

A sound booms through the silence, rattles his bones. A sound like the chime of a clock. 

Then another. 

And another. 

Steve yelps and covers his ears, screws his eyes shut. The light of the sigils on the ground seems blinding all of a sudden. 

The creatures howl. 

And then everything goes quiet. 

Steve waits with baited breath for the feeling of claws tearing at his legs, but nothing happens. The snarls and growls are gone. 

Instead, birdsong fills his ears. The faint sound of footsteps and voices, hooves on cobblestone and the clang of metal against metal. Instead of dust and decay, the room suddenly smells like wood and smoke and forest. The light shining through his eyelids isn’t silver anymore, but golden. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. “The hell was all that?” 

“Oh, those?” somebody chuckles. Somebody very close by. “Those were wraiths. Scary little fuckers, aren’t they?” 

Steve swears his heart misses a beat. Because upon closer inspection, the roughness of the vines and shroud against his skin is gone. Instead, there’s a body under his, a hand running idly down his side, all the way down to his ass. He’s sitting in someone’s lap. 

Steve snaps his eyes open. There’s a guy looking back at him, a guy with a shit-eating grin set in a handsome, dimpled face, framed by a spill of dark curls. There’s a crown on his head. 

“Now what I’d like to know,” says the guy, and gives Steve’s ass a hearty squeeze. “Is what I did to deserve getting a pretty little thing like you dropped in my lap. Not that I’m complaining.” 

Steve does what any sensible person would do in his situation. 

He faints. 

And that’s his first encounter with King Edward the Banished. 

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 9

Rating: SFW

Warnings: ANGST

Summary: You have a date! Not with Ghost 💀

Notes: If you feel this is out of character for you personally, valid, I just like making Ghost suffer 😌

Word count: 1,513

ao3 link

You were going on a date!

It had been some time since you’d been on one, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the man who you refused to name even in your own head. You weren’t doing this out of any petty desire to prove you were desirable; no, this was personal growth! This random man from Tinder could be your future husband, after all!

Well, that was taking it a bit too far, but at the very least, he might knock some of the spiderwebs off your headboard.

Your day had been spent preparing for your date, starting with an hour-long bath in which you shaved everything from your eyebrows down, leaving your skin smooth, polished, and buttery soft. You didn’t want to think about the cost of all the moisturiser you’d used, only how nice you smelled, as though you’d been dipped into a vat of cocoa butter. Then, it was onto makeup. Thankfully, today had been a good skin day for you, so you kept it simple, a fuckton of mascara to make your eyelashes really pop, and then another half hour tweezing your eyebrows into a perfect shape. You dithered over colours, settling with a warm lip tint, which you dabbed on your cheekbones. Already, you felt that this man would not be worth all this effort, but you did enjoy the process of making yourself look absolutely breathtaking. The outfit was the last piece of the puzzle and the hardest part. How could you find clothes that said, ‘I’m down to shag, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to put any effort in’. Jeans? Mm, no, too hard to take off while looking sexy. Little dress? Eh, too cold. Midi skirt it was. Warm and practical, and easy to hike up. Plus, it had pockets! What wasn’t to love! You paired it with a nice pair of dark heels and an off-the-shoulder top. You faffed with your hair, trying to figure out if you wanted it up or down, before just sticking a little bow clip in it and calling it a day.

Naturally, now that you were preened to perfection, Soap decided it was the best time to try and rub spiky white hairs all over your outfit, as though his essence was what was missing from the ensemble. He’d been happily snoozing the entire time you were getting ready, seemingly knowing when the exact wrong time was to start trying to fuss you. You simply did your best to pet him at arms reach, then distracted him with treats while you sat on the sofa to kill time, having gotten ready far too early for your date.

You were busy trying to figure out how you were supposed to eat crisps without ruining the outfit when you heard a knock at the door. Strange, you were meeting your date at the bar. If he’d somehow found your address online, he was getting deep heat spray to the eyes. You tucked the little canister into your skirt pocket as you went to the door, peering through the peephole.

Shit.

Why did you suddenly feel awkward about going out on a date? You had nothing to be ashamed about; you were a free agent; you could go on a thousand dates if you liked. Still, you felt uneasy opening the door to him. The chain remained off as you opened the door, your arm wrapped around your waist for comfort.

“Ghost.”

For once, he wasn’t wearing the mask. He still had the ‘definitely a civilian’ clothes on, blue jeans and a black waterproof, and even the way he stood was unquestioningly military, his arms behind his back, but without the mask, he was a little more human. And gorgeous, but you didn’t want to think about that.

“You off out somewhere?”

“Yeah, actually. Got a date.”

You watched his expression carefully, a twinge of guilt in your stomach. It wasn’t like you were anything more than friends. Weird, fucked up friends where one of them broke into the other’s house and left cats. His face didn’t change. Still perfectly neutral, his eyes dead and cold, just like you remembered them. He shifted from his stiff position, bringing forth the bouquet he’d apparently been concealing behind his back.

You’d been given a lot of bouquets over the years, some from dates, some from thankful cat parents, a lot from your girls, but this was new. Usually, a man would give you basic red roses or whatever strange mix Lidl had on sale at the doors, but these weren’t cheap supermarket flowers. They were a beautiful mix of purple tulips, some so dark they looked almost black, some soft lavender, without a single limp petal or dangling leaf. A dark purple ribbon was wrapped around their stems, holding them tightly together. Fuck. He’d really gone all out.

“Wanted to give you summat as a thank you.”

“Ghost, these.. they’re really nice. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

You took them from him, gently inhaling their scent. Christ, did tulips smell good. Did you even own a nice vase to put them in? You’d stashed all your glass ornaments in cupboards, out of Soap’s reach. Soap. Would he know not to eat tulips? They were, after all, exceptionally poisonous to cats. And Soap was a bit of an idiot. You’d just have to keep them up on the shelf in your bedroom with the rest of your treasured possessions. Not that this was a treasured possession. You just didn’t want Soap to get sick.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

There was a moment of silence, things left unsaid, but you couldn’t exactly say what was on your mind. He’d already rejected you once before, and you weren’t made of steel. Still, you felt bad.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“Why would you be sorry? They’re just flowers. Don’t read so much into it.”

Well, that put an end to any guilt on your end.

“Right. Well, thanks for the flowers, Simon.”

He gave you a brisk nod, then turned on his heel and left without another word.

If the man had planned on putting your head in a spin before your date, he’d done a marvellous job. The flowers seemed to stare down at you mockingly from their position on the shelf high above your headboard, watching you spray perfume on yourself, decorating yourself for another man. You scowled at them as though you could singe their petals; they could watch you fuck another man for all you cared; as Ghost had said, they were just flowers. They meant nothing. Nothing that had a place of importance in your room. Ugh.

They stuck with you throughout your date. The man you met at the bar wasn’t unattractive, tall, handsome, dark-haired, and his conversation was pleasant enough, but you just couldn’t feel a spark. Was that a good thing? The sparks you felt with Ghost felt more like a taser; they’d left you fearful and uneasy, but my God, those sparks were strong. Perhaps it was better that you didn’t feel that way about your date. After all, people weren’t supposed to break into your house and then make snarky comments about your home security, nor were they supposed to reject you and then make teasing comments about how you wanted them, or give you flowers and then tell you they meant nothing. This date could have been good for you, a nice, normal man, a picket fence, 2.4 children, weekend walks in the Peak District and holidays in Benidorm.

You went home alone.

You didn’t need a date. You didn’t need a Ghost. What you did need was a therapist.

Unfortunately for you, they were expensive if you went private, and if you didn’t, you’d be stuck on a waiting list for months. Besides, you didn’t really want to confess to a therapist, ‘so I have a stalker, but we’re actually friends, so please don’t report him to the police!’. As if. You could therapise yourself. You knew what you needed to do. You needed to do what most other people in this situation would do: you needed to block his number, change your locks, and forget about him.

You stared at his number in your phone. Ghost. Stupid name. If you blocked him, he’d know he’d gotten to you. Or would he assume you’d moved on? It irritated you that he took up so much room in your thoughts. It would have served him right if you threw those flowers away. You considered it, taking them down off the shelf and holding them in your hand, imagining how it would feel to burn them, trample them underfoot, or beat him to death with them. Nope. Prick or not, the flowers were too beautiful to get rid of, and it wasn’t their fault that the person gifting them was a cunt. Back on the shelf they went.

You’d keep them just because they were beautiful, and they would wilt with your emotions for him, and then you could throw everything away.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Favorite Naruto Character?

Impossible question!!! It changes by the day depending on what fic I'm reading tbh

I feel like if I'm asked this on the street on a time limit, my default answer would probably be Tobirama? But like in part just bc hes what I'm known for/started out writing, so

But like, in the running for favorite uhh

Kakashi is amazing, forever and always. Specifically team Ro era him, I have a mild obsession w his younger iterations bc of the edge factor and also just how fun it is how he fucking shapeshifts into a new guy depending on his stage of life. U can get functionally, like, 4 or 5 completely different characters out of him purely based on how old he is, it's fascinating

Orochimaru. My beloved. He fascinates me. His gender. His crimes. His snakes. I love snakes. I love him. The unbeatable comedy of him being a fucking housewife in Boruto never ceases to amaze me. On me and my girlfriends first date I spent an entire 20 minutes talking about Orochimaru. She did not and does not know anything ab Naruto. This is a true fact you can ask her. I do not regret a single minute of it.

Tobirama, ofc, I fucking love mad scientists and maybe he isn't Orochimaru crazy but by god is he some brand of lunacy. His morally grey (arguably, at times, black) ways and rizless autism has enchanted me...I can not let him go

Izuna is way up there too, fanfiction has convinced me to love him and he remains one of the characters I find easiest to write. Somehow he worms his way into my fics and aus without even meaning for it to happen. The Izuna Sickness(tm)

Ok now imagine a little space here as I mention my runner ups / secondary favorites

Gaara. I love Gaara. I need more Gaara centric fics. I have very little to say or write about him myself and I never talk ab him on here but I love him. He is The Character Most Ever in my heart. Every day I scream and cry over the fact I've probably read all the Gaara centric time travel and crossover fics out there. So fucked up. I don't trust my own skill to write him. My hands are not shaped for it. I read a Gaara/Izuna/Tobirama time travel fic once and it changed my life.

HIKAKU. HIKAKU IS ALSO ON THE LIST. NOT REALLY BUT LIKE. HES UP THERE. FUCK. I LOVE HIM. He is a blank slate and it's arguable if he even fr fr exists but I don't care he means the world to me. The strong Hikaku warriors of ao3 (mostly Domoz) showed me the true beauty that is Hikaku. I fell in love with him. He exists in the back of my mind constantly.

Obito is not The Favorite but he's also up there. Specifically like. The deranged takes of him. Obito being a freak is my bread and butter, but this may also be linked to the fact that Kakashi is in the running for The Favorite(tm) so like. Maybe I'm just projecting my own love for Kakashi onto Obito then having way too much fun making him comedicallt weird ab it

The list goes on tbh, there are SO many naruto characters out there it's kind of insane. I became a little bit infatuated w Utakata at one point but the tragically little content for him lead to me getting distracted by characters with characters w more content for them. Sasuke and Neji I also find super compelling and occasionally have fits of tearing ao3 apart in search of content for them.

Ik u didn't ask and this is a ship and not a person but like. Also Kiba/Kankuro. Honey Honey Honey by @late-cambrian changed my brain chemistry forever and made me spiral for a little bit as it convinced me to love Kiba and Kankuro as a ship and as characters. I think I've talked about the fic before actually, it remains a favorite. I need more Kiba content, I fucking love dog boys (as I'm sure u can tell)

I'm sorry u asked me a simple question and I went on a rant, oops. In my defense it really is impossible to choose— ask me again in a month and I might give u a different answer, who knows

[starhvney]

may I request a platonic Nana/KC with fem reader at a sleepover? :) binging anime and doing eachothers make up and she's low-key emotional because it's been awhile since a friend has had an interest in her directly and especially her interests,, I always felt bad she was usually pushed aside for being weird :(

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet nana ashida & fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: ‘part of me will know deep down that i am pretty cool. part of me that knows i never cared for being cool.’

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, platonic, a bit of reverse hurt/comfort, nana being a sweetie cutie patootie

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: kinda short but i really love and in some ways relate to nana, so this was really lovely to write :’) i also got sad when other characters just saw her as weird. also, when writing this i was like, oh yeah! binging anime and baking!! and after i finished writing the fic i read that you wrote makeup ;( i hope you still like it!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the sweet smell of fresh baked goods permeated through the kitchen as the warmth of the oven surrounded you like a warm and familiar hug. you and nana stand side by side, frozen in place as the two of you zone out at the tv you had moved to the counter. its screen plays an episode of a shoujo anime, one that nana had persuaded you to watch with her. 

you flinch when you realize you stuck your hand too far into the mixing bowl, your fingers slowly sinking into the freshly made dough instead of rolling it into balls like you were supposed to. 

a squeal leaves nana’s lips as she jumps up and down in excitement, hugging onto your arm with a grin. you glance back at the screen to see that the love interest had finally kissed the main character.

“it only took, what, twelve episodes?” you giggle, earning a huff and nudge from the pink-haired girl.

“hey, this is a special moment, okay! wasn’t it cute?”

“yes, yes. it was super cute,” you concede. “i really liked that one! you have good taste.” 

“i’m glad,” she turns her attention back down to the heart-shaped cake she was frosting. “...my interests can be a little weird, but i’m glad you like them.”

you turn to her curiously, noticing her strange change of tone and how the baked good in front of her suddenly was much more interesting than anything else in the room.

“i don’t think they’re weird.” you insist, attention drawn to how her tail anxiously flicked back and forth.

“i just mean most people think i’m kind of strange,” she says, waving her hand dismissively as if it were no big deal. “my hobbies aren’t really… normal.”

you wrinkle your nose, eyebrows furrowing.

“what’s “normal”, anyway?” nana’s round eyes flick back to you, her expression taken aback. “sounds boring.”

she lets out a quiet laugh suddenly, covering her mouth before looking down at the cake with a distant smile on her face.

“yeah, i guess i never really wanted to fit in anyways.”

the two of you continue to bake in comfortable silence, letting the soft hum of the tv fill your ears as you both focus on your tasks. the setting sun shines through the windows, casting an orange glow on both of your faces. when the episode ends, nana softly sets down her butter knife, turning to look at you. as your eyes meet hers, you’re shocked at the emotion you find in them, molten gold glistening as tears gather on the surface.

“i’m so glad you’re my friend,” lean hands reach out for yours, cupping them in an earnest show of appreciation. “i hope you know how much you mean to me.”

you squeeze her hands back, eyes widening as you try to think of a response to her sudden affection.

“i feel like i can really be myself around you. people have always brushed off my interests and called them silly, but you genuinely care. thank you.”

“of course, nana,” you pull her into a hug. “you’re one of the kindest and most interesting friends i’ve ever had.”

she sniffles and clears her throat, pulling from the hug to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her lashes.

“really?” her voice is small, tight with surprised uncertainty.

you tilt your head, giving her a soft smile.

“yeah… i actually was gonna say we should do this more often. you know, have sleepovers like this where we try out a new hobby we’re interested in.”

“really, really?!” her eyes light up in elation, her sentiment quickly shifting into pure excitement once again. “you’d want to try crochet? and dollmaking? are you sure?”

“uh, duh! that sounds like so much fun.”

she squeals in happiness, engulfing you in another hug and spinning you both around in the kitchen. the smell of her vanilla and strawberry-scented perfume filled your nose, a scent that she had donned and owned since high school.

"we should make a list!"

after spinning and giggling a bit longer, you two soon returned to your previous activities, debating if the second male lead was a better choice or not while munching on your freshly baked sweet treats.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 14 Months

Slime time again my good folks (I really ought to start making more slime puns)! I’m here again with the 14 month update and things have continued to get gooier

Firstly: No more bones!! In my arms and legs at least, and gods that’s been wonderful just being able to freely move my limbs around however I want. Obviously beforehand, while my bones were still there, I could move my limbs a bunch already (see the previous entry with puddle legs), but it just feels so much better and free-er now that they’re gone - it’s hard to explain properly. If I had to, I’d guess it’s not feeling my bones move around whenever I do stuff, so it makes it nicer to move. Also helps I don’t have to worry about losing my bones too now, so I am more willing/able to try out weirder shapes and motions.

Adding to this; it’s kinda strange, my arms no longer really feel ‘segmented’ like they did before. Humans (it really doesn’t make sense to include myself in that anymore, if it ever did) have a very defined forearm and upper arm, but slimes, well, we (hehe, it’s nice to include myself in ‘slimes’) just kinda have limbs. My arm is just my arm, and honestly, it’s barely that distinct, arms and legs just kinda feel like the same thing, just in a different shape, and it’s really only the intellectual distinction that one is arms and one is legs. Even fingers are just kind of like, extra, tiny, limbs, which has been a kinda weird realisation to have and experience. Also: Elbows are a suggestion, and knees, given that my limbs are just kinda long pseudopods when it comes down to it, so they bend everywhere, not just at a designated point. It’s kinda funky being able to manipulate my slime like I can now ‘cause, on one hand, it just kinda feels like moving a muscle, but that muscle is connected to every other muscle in that area, and basically the whole limb is muscle.

Anyways, with all my new mobility, I’ve been practising my shaping, and I’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. I’ve been able to make things like spades, hammers and such on the ends of my arms, and I’ve been experimenting with different kinds of feet/legs as well, like mermaid tails and talons. I have tried making arm-blades and stuff too, but it turns out it’s actually quite hard to make sharp edges - so far I’ve only gotten about as sharp as a butter knife, and that took a lot of concentration. Turns out ‘sharp’ isn’t exactly a slime speciality

As for the rest of my body: the skin on my torso has all turned to slime now, due to the two-fronted assault from both my legs and arms it turned quicker than the limbs had individually. It’s still very weird see musculature through my goo, and I know it weirds other people out even more so, so I try to keep my torso as covered as possible, which absolutely sucks when it’s hot, although I have forgone covering for the sake of staying upright when it’s gotten really hot, even if I do now run a bit cooler than I used to.

On the note of the new/extra slime, I’ve actually tried to do some shaping using that, trying to give myself a tail. While I did have some extra slime thanks to most of my fat having been converted to goo, it wasn’t really enough to make anything more than a large bunny-esque tail - which was cute, but I’m looking for something a little longer and more prehensile. I guess I’ll have to wait for more things to dissolve to give me the substance to make myself a tail like I want..

It’s also worth adding that if a slime shifts something for long enough, it ends up sticking, kinda like muscle memory, but for shape. To that end, I’ve actually been practising keeping the claws and talons that I’ve learnt how to make, since I’ve found that they feel nice, even if they’re not quite perfect. My only issue, with the talons specifically, is that they make me taller, something which I really don’t need, but I’m hoping once I can shape my whole body I can adjust such things.

One last thing I’ve been able to do now, is that I can now move slime freely between all of my body - so I can easily reach things if I need to, just by taking the mass from somewhere else and giving it to one of my arms to make it longer. This too has contributed to this newer mindset of ‘I’m just one blob of slime, with shapes coming out of it that I have assigned functions’, a leg isn’t a leg when it’s a super long arm, so distinct anatomy is kind of shrinking away, even if 20 odd years of humanity says ‘an arm is an arm, and a leg is a leg’. This is only further worsened by the fact that I can also just make legs arms and arms legs, so yeah, ‘legs’ and ‘arms’ are really becoming just descriptors of limb functions for me.

That’s all to really report this time, nothing super new or surprising, just adjusting as I become more and more slime now! See you in the next update! Ps. thanks to the person (@bdigfreakingwooper) who suggested using a lint screen to help with the random crap that gets stuck in my slime, running that through my limbs has been really nice and does keep me very clean! Although occationally some of my slime does get stuck since it's not quite the same as water, but it's so minor it's fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Been loving the various comments 'nd stuff that people have written, and I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying this! If you want more slime HRT stuff @scrubbinn has just started their own that's neat, so you should check theirs out too over here.

First - Prev - Next

[scurvgirl]

This is so weird but it deals with two of my favorite hobbies so here we go.

I got a cool banter between Taash and Neve today where Taash says their broken horn will actually grow back. That's really cool! Also - the horn then isn't bone! It's keratin based, like fingernails! And I know about fingernails as a nail polish collector (200+ nail polishes y'all). I wanted to take a moment to talk about stuff that might help with the care and love of qunari horns!

Shaping: Glass nail files are really the best tool for shaping nails, much better that the emery boards made of scratchy paper you can get at the drugstore. Given this, I imagine qunari using large glass files to help shape and maintain the shape of their horns, including managing the equivalent of hang-nails. It depends on how fast the horns grow, but the shaping activities would need to be fairly regular, and likely a social activity since from an access point - it would be hard to shape your horns to a nice point when that point is at the back of your head.

Hydration and preventing issues: I think Bull mentioned horn balm in Inquisition at one point, which makes perfect sense if the horns are keratin based! This also makes a lot of sense for the horn-bed, or where the horns come out of the skin. Here are some ingredients that are found in nail oils and balms that might also be useful here: jojoba oil (praise be jojoba oil!), almond oil, sunflower oil, apricot oil, beeswax (for balms), cocoa butter, aloe, shea butter. This would be a daily application process.

Dehydration/damaging conditions: Prolonged water exposure is very damaging to nails (why it is recommended to wear gloves when doing the dishes if you want to improve your nails). The qunari live in tropical climes, where rain is frequent. Application of previously mentioned oils and balms would help retain moisture. I could also see wraps to protect their horns during a rainier season may be very helpful for them! Nails that are frequently damaged from water tend to peel more easily and be weaker, which is REALLY uncomfortable. I can't imagine the discomfort of peeling horns.

Horn Breaks: OW! This must hurt so much based on how much a nail break can hurt. A tip break won't hurt as much as a break closure to the horn-bed, but the reverberation of it will still hurt.

Weight: The horns themselves are likely not that heavy! At least, not as heavy as bone would be.

Adornment: Whether within the Qun or not, it would be really interesting to see qunari use lacquer to paint their horns! It could be part of ceremonies, rituals, or self-expression! Use of ribbons, chains, and other jewels also would be so cool! We see a liiiittle bit of this with Shathan, and I love Taash selecting a crystal horn for themselves as their natural one grows out.

Anyways, I just wanted to gush about two of my favorite hobbies coming together. :)

[kathbunny]

For The Emi Gifting Event - The Dani, VR-LA, Kyana make soup for a sick Finbar

@alkatart @emis-equivalent-exchange

1031 Words - Platonic Fluff / Found Family Fluff

 “Okay, everyone, we’ve been affected by a terrible disaster.” VR-LA said, both of his hands on the kitchen counter, where many ingredients were already gathered for their plan. “We have to make chicken soup for Finbar, without his help, before he wakes up.”

 “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it, he’s just sick.” Dani grumbled, poking at the unpeeled onion that rested on the counter. “We’re basically just cutting and heating stuff. That’s easy.

 “Have you ever made soup before? I certainly haven’t!” VR-LA replied, a little defensive. 

 “...all of the hard parts were already prepared for us..?” Kyana said, pointing at the jar of broth that Finbar kept around and the leftover chicken from their dinner the previous day. “It shouldn’t be that hard!”

 “Yeah! If you don’t make all the cutting and stuff into individual steps, it’s basically only three. Butter in the pot with onions and celery. The broth and everything else until it boils, then wait twenty minutes on lower heat.” Dani said. “Simple. Easy. Incredibly boring.”

 “That doesn’t feel particularly special, thinking about it now…” Kyana mumbled, thinking. “I heard somebody saying soup makes people feel better because of all the love put into it, like when somebody’s mom makes it for them.”

 “We could try doing something extra to make it nicer?” VR-LA suggested.

 “Like what? None of us are good enough at cooking to really risk putting in any new ingredients.” Dani replied, still boredly poking at the onion. “I’ve already been told absolutely no hot sauce.”

 “We could cut the carrots into fun shapes!” Kyana said, her eyes now glittering. “I’ve heard of people doing that before!”

 “That’s a good idea.” VR-LA agreed, grabbing the carrots and looking them over. “They do need to be at least a little similar in size to cook evenly, but that shouldn’t be too hard.”

 “How about we make it a competition?” Dani declared. “Whoever makes the best shapes gets to escape the kitchen while the onions cook, whoever makes the worst shapes has to cut the onions!” 

 “You sound very confident in yourself there, Dani.” VR-LA said, looking a little awkward.

 “I mean, it can’t be too different from carving wood, right? I’ve done that before, it won’t be that hard.”

 “How about whoever wins brings some fresh water to Finbar? So they’ll still be helping, but still get to escape the onions.” VR-LA suggested. 

 “That works for me.” Dani smiled, already grabbing a cutting board, knife, and carrot.

 “That sounds like fun!” Kyana said, doing the same as Dani. “I don’t get why you want to escape cutting onions though?”

 “Onions have a chemical in them that makes your eyes water.” VR-LA explained. “It doesn’t actually affect most mechanites since we don’t have organic eyeballs.” VR-LA pointed at his eyes as he said that.

 “Oh, that makes sense!” Kyana smiled.

 “Let’s just start already!” Dani said. “Here, I’ll start us off. Three, two, one, go!” Dani sped through the words starting to cut before she even got to two.

 VR-LA chuckled, shaking his head with a bit of exasperation, getting to work on carefully cutting his carrot into similarly sized chunks. Kyana giggled at them both and did the same, cutting the slowest of the three of them, being exceptionally careful.

 In the end, the stars and hearts all looked wildly different between each of them. VR-LA’s were most certainly the best, all stars. They weren’t perfect, but they were well cut and their points were all about the same length. Kyana’s were the second best, a mix of hearts and stars. They weren’t all quite the same size, or even really similar in shape, but they were readable as their intended shape. Dani’s, in comparison, weren’t readable as any particular shape, just being weird, pointed lumps.

 “...it wasn’t like carving wood.” Dani conceded as VR-LA and Kyana both stared at her. “...guess I’m stuck on onion duty.” She grumbled.

 Kyana looked over at VR-LA and smiled at him. “I think you won there, yours look really good!”

 “You did good as well, Kyana.” VR-LA said, his eyes shining a bit brighter at the compliment. “You as well, Dani.”

 “You don’t need to lie for my feelings.” Dani grumbled. “I’ll handle the onions, you just go bring that water to Finbar’s room or whatever.”

 VR-LA nodded, deciding not to poke that particular grumpy bear anymore, even though he was going to ask to send Kyana instead, since he was immune to the effects of onions, simply getting a cup of cold water to deliver to Finbar’s room while Kyana got to work on cutting some celery for the soup.

 VR-LA dropped some ice into it from the freezer, his feet thumping against the wood of the ship as he left. There were the sounds of a knife chopping through celery and the blade thumping into the wooden cutting board in a similar way. Dani seemed to be genuinely waiting for VR-LA to leave to cut her onions though, so VR-LA sped up his steps to allow her to.

-

 Finbar sat in a chair in his room, since he wasn’t exactly able to try the soup the crew had made for him while laying in his hammock, tiredly looking down into the chicken noodle soup. It smelled a bit too strongly of pepper for a meal meant for a sick person, but he knew that was probably what Dani thought was normal, with VR-LA and Kyana not knowing enough about cooking to contribute either.

 Finbar cautiously took some of the broth with his spoon, ignoring the eyes of the other three members of his crew on him as he tasted it. It was all that bad. Finbar decided, setting his spoon back down into the bowl, looking up at Kyana, Dani, and VR-LA. “You all did a good job, I’m very proud of you all.” Finbar said, his voice rough from his sore throat. 

 Dani bumped her fist in the air, Kyana smiled like only she could, and VR-LA nodded like that was what he expected, hiding a sigh of relief. Finbar smiled as well, unable to help himself despite how crappy he felt.

[asherlockstudy]

Did you give your thoughts about the colonoscopies? I would love to know your take on what was said and implied because I have some thoughts..

I almost didn’t do it but okay let’s go.

The Brolonoscopy (they pronounced it as Brolinoscopy?)

I will once more start with the puzzle piece reference. Let’s see the exact quote: “Well, the technical term is colonoscopy when a doctor explores your large intestine with a little camera to check for signs of cancer, polyps, gastrointestinal abnormalities, missing puzzle pieces. It could be anything.” Okay, with all the objectivity I can master, the possibility of this being a throw-away statement and not a reference to their own old video is, very seriously, below 1%. Let’s start from what the joke is on the surface. The superficial joke is the weird objects people insert in their rectum for sexual gratification. But why say puzzle pieces of all things? I don’t think I need to explain why a puzzle piece has a shape that is not meant to offer any pleasure but is sure to cause huge discomfort. Nobody (I hope) would like the idea of sticking a puzzle piece up there = 0% pleasure, 100% cuts and pain. So why go with puzzle pieces and not a million other objects that would have a more reasonable shape? Furthermore, notice that it is the ONLY irrelevant item Rhett mentions. He says cancer, polyp, other health abnormalities… and MISSING PUZZLE PIECES. He jumps to it straight away. It is not part of a series of items that have no business in your butt. He just says this one, in specific, all alone and nothing else. Lastly, of course this quote is from the scripted intro. No incoherence, no thoughtless blabbering. Scripted intentional statement.

The Link butt flashing is nothing truly important, it’s a throwback, Link had also done it in the brosectomy. Rhett looked the other way but there was also a cut there lol

I love how butt flashing Link thought Rhett was being indecent because a little bit of the shoulder was showing 😂

Let’s go to drugged up Rhett. The things he says are: a) using buttplugs regularly, b) eating a lot of hotdogs (although when sane he has said he doesn’t often opt for actual hot dogs), c) a man fond of looking and entering the asshole (although when sane he identified as a vagina fan man). So he spoke of three things and all were associated with anal sex and more so gay anal sex (hot dog). I think at some point Link’s embarrassment almost became genuine. There’s more to be said here but I will come back to this later.

Rhett was somehow so endearing when he was mumbling how Link complains about everything except peanut butter.

Link makes it clear he’s fine with something going up his dookie shoot.

Overall, sedated Link is more of a normally sedated person than Rhett was and there is stuff to be said about it. But first, let’s talk about the normal stuff: when Link is brought to during the colonoscopy, he initially is antsy, has discomfort, asks repeatedly if the doctor found anything bad, tries to move. Those reactions were normal. The only not normal one up to this point was wanting to canoe down a colon… But, again, there’s a lot more to be said.

“I’m glad we saved ourselves for each other and broke the seal together” intentional joke when Rhett was fully awake.

Link also said something like “I spent all my life with a cone up my ass” probably a metaphor of repression.

And now: THE REAL PART

As a person who has had an endoscopy with anaesthesia (maybe more than a regular dosage), a relative who had one with half the typical dosage of anaesthesia and a thug relative who did it with NO anaesthesia, in case you are young and vibrant and healthy, which I very much hope so, and have not undergone such a procedure yet, let me tell you something: regarding many parts of their incoherent sedation, THAT’S NOT HOW BEING INCOHERENT DURING SEDATION WORKS.

Link commented in the end of the video that he was more out of it than Rhett was and Rhett disagreed due to all the insane stuff he had said, for which he took no responsibility. The thing is, Link was telling the truth and perhaps intentionally. He was more out of it than Rhett. “Out of it” here means being more sedated and therefore more incapable of communicating or talking. And certainly NOT saying sexual and other supposedly crazy stuff with extraordinary detail. There is proof for that in the video, as spoken by the doctor, which was not edited out.

The doctor said Rhett took less medicine than the typical dosage is and, you know, doctors have the tendency to minimize pain anyway. Which means that for the doctor to be impressed that Rhett handled it so well, he was in fact not all that drugged up. The dosage that was given to him was apparently enough to numb the pain / discomfort but he was pretty conscious for most of the time. Compare it to Link, who was given more medicine and when they tried to wake him as much as Rhett, he had discomfort, was making motions and asking the doctor questions about his health. Link’s state was making a lot more sense. There are several cuts and edits during Rhett’s colonoscopy but in general I feel like he took one up for the team (literally) so that he would say certain things under the cover of incoherence. Like they said, they asked the doctor to use the minimum drug dosage so they could be as alert and conscious as possible - apparently Rhett was able to tolerate a lower dosage that inevitably made him remain more alert for a longer time. Bodies are different. In any case, Rhett took much less drug than his doctor expected him to need, which means he was able to communicate well and maintain an unusual level of consciousness during such a procedure. Besides all the sex jokes he made with full phrases, this is more obvious in the “Jessie” question. Here’s how sedation works: if you are in the state that you don’t remember your mother for example, you definitely also don’t remember the lyrics of an obscure song you listened to once. End of story. What happens with Rhett here is exactly that. He supposedly is incapable of remembering his wife but he has no problem remembering… let’s analyse this.

Doctor: So, Rhett, who’s Jessie? You got a tattoo.

Link: That’s his favourite proctologist.

Rhett: You’re talking about Jesse Pinkman?

Doctor: We got Jessie on your right buttcheek.

Rhett: … he was the right hand man of Walter White in Breaking Bad.

Link: No, they are talking about your wife, dude.

Rhett: Jesse James was a…

(Irrelevant chatter about endoscope going in.)

Nobody:

Rhett: Jussie Smollet was a…

Link: No, let’s not talk about him.

Also look:

Look at him. He is pretty alert. He looks at Link when he talks to him, he is wide-eyed, he raises his head. He also repeatedly looked to his right (our left) during the Jessie conversation. This was a bit. Perhaps the various Jessies were written on a paper there because he could have a problem remembering them on his own. When the endoscope was inserted, he was like “oh yeah hehe there it is, hello, ask for consent maybe hehe”. It’s funny, it’s inappropriate but IT IS NOT incoherent. It was a sex joke very suitable to the situation. He knew what he was saying at all times. Therefore, no matter how numbed he was, he was not enough to forget his own wife or repeatedly ignore the cues Link and the doctors gave him about her, all while listing a sidekick character from a show, a notorious bandit from the American civil war and a controversial but little known gay actor who staged an assault against himself and has mythomanic tendencies.

Link emphasises on the bit by saying to the doctor: “ I wonder if he’s gonna remember his wife when he wakes up. Because he certainly remembered every other Jessie he’s ever heard about”.

Like, okay? Trust me on this. Anaesthesia doesn’t work like selective amnesia. And few very particular amnesias work like remembering the obscure thing and forgetting the pivotal one.

This. Was. A. Bit.

And even Link’s embarrassment is parts real, parts a bit. Like, emphasising on how Rhett can’t think of anything besides buttholes.

Meanwhile, Link’s eyes are half-lidded and whenever the endoscope moves he tries to move and the nurses stop him. He’s on a bigger dosage and he’s more sensitive to this procedure than Rhett. Honestly, Link is just way more normal, I don’t know if Rhett was that hell of a champ or there was crazy editing going on. But Link is brought at some point more to as well. And then he says this:

“You know, Rhett, I am glad you are here for me. Why don’t we hold hands?” *Editing with a lot of stuff about polyps, business decision etc, at this point Link communicates well too* “I am so grateful that I get to have something shoved deep into my colon, in your presence… because you know that’s what life is all about.” Throughout this monologue, Link also looks somewhere at Rhett’s left and he is a little robotic. Maybe he was reading as well. This, too, was a bit.

And just like with all recent videos, this has similar vibes to another one. Let’s go back to the We Dug A Medium Sized Hole. As Rhett and Link dig with their shovels, Link says;

“You know, there is nothing I’d rather be doing now than digging a hole. Seriously, this is exactly what I want to be doing. And there’s no one else I would rather be digging a hole with.”

That’s all from me, you said you had thoughts as well, if they are additional or different, I would love to read them!

[xxscrabiesxx]

When I was a kid, Thanksgivings were a haze of color, people, and foods I didn't really like. The textures were unpredictable, the flavor only more so depending on who made the food that year, and things came in weird chunks that fell off your fork. It was loud, my extended family stayed in my house, and as a general rule was quite overwhelming.

As an adult, I don't particularly participate in the holiday. It has become an excuse to visit family, rather than a grand day of celebration. Last year, I hosted my siblings and their partners. We had pizza.

This year, my estranged oldest brother- having recently returned contact with us after 5 years of silence (his silence largely influenced by the fact that he needed space to recover from the cult) is hosting. Having divvied up the task of feeding a monumental amount of people (~18), my brother assigned me the task of 'Dessert'.

Now, I could have just made regular ol' pum'kin pie. Opened a can of the stuff, thrown it into a premade crust, and tossed it into the oven. Which is what I will be doing with the chocolate pudding pie this year. But as previously mentioned, many traditional Thanksgiving foods are just.... Not tasty, to me.

Especially, the pumpkin pie. Thin. Flavorless. Lacking any sort of redeeming qualities, it mocked me. Each year I would try a slice. Maybe, just maybe, THIS year it would be the creamy goodness it always masqueraded as. And it never was. It drove me to create the following recipe from scratch.

Recently I became gluten free (as best I can manage), so this recipe follows that rule. However, I'm sure substitutions of the wheaty nature will not overly change the resulting pie.

It is spongey, creamy, and tastes like pumpkin pie ought to- pumpkin and spices. The pretzel crust adds a layer of salty that enhances the sweetness and balances the creamy texture with a nice crisp.

Enjoy!

Gluten Free Pumpkin Pie

2 eggs

1/ 3 cup baking rice flour

1 tsp baking powder

~1/4 cup cream cheese

1/4 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup pumpkin

~2tsp ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg (to taste)

1tsp almond extract

1 cup crushed gluten free pretzels

2 tbsp unsalted butter

Prep time: ~15 minutes.

Cook time: ~20 minutes.

Yield: 1 pie, 8 servings.

Prep: Set cream cheese out to settle into room temperature beforehand, or microwave it in small increments to soften it.

In a bowl, mix eggs, sugar, pumpkin, and cream cheese. Slowly add seasonings, baking powder, and rice flour.

In a separate bowl, crush pretzels into little bits. Then, use a blender to chop them up into a fine powder. Add butter.

Assembly: Set oven to 350°. Place pretzel mix into pie tin and spread into crust shape. Prebake in oven until brown or crisped.

When the oven is preheated fully, settle the pumpkin mixture into the tin and set in oven. Bake for 15-20 minutes.

The pie is done when the pumpkin is spongey and comes clean from a toothpick test, no major color change.

Optional whipped cream: add 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream and 2 tbsp white sugar to a bowl and whip until peaked.

[shilo-sumac]

What's the craziest, most off-the-wall thing that's ever happened at your rehabilitation center?

ohhhhh...hmmmmm, probably that like. Evil Hole.

so like, this was a bit ago, around when i first started posting n stuff. i liveblogged it but like, it was old and not a lotta people followed me so idk how many people even saw it, so i dont mind giving a summary since its probably hard to find

sooooo it all started, like most good stories do, with the protagonist (me) being an idiot. i accidentally used pokenip instead of loose tea leaves to brew some tea. im not even a big tea drinker!!!! its just fun to sometimes!!!!!

anyways i get kinda loopy and decide to go on an adventure. which basically means i blindly wandered around in the uncharted parts of the island for a few hours. eventually, i found this bigass creepy hole in the ground in a spot i swore i already passed before. me, being the same person who a few hours prior injested a psychoactive substance on mistake, decided to jump in!

uhhm.. i think i passed out after that? someone used pelipper mail to give me some peanut butter at some point so at least i wasnt hungry, but i of course dont know how to fly and there were no footholds to climb back up. by this time i had sobered up and realized ah, shit, huh, this isnt right now is it?

buuut the only way out was forward.

at this point i check if i have any pokeballs on me. luckily i had one. my gliscor had decided to playfully chomp on my nose earlier in the day so i balled him to calm him down, and now he was my only companion here. guess its a good thing hes a bit of an idiot. like pokemon like trainer, nyahaha.

uh, anyways, we kinda just. walk in the only available direction. and this cave system is like, way bigger than I thought. lotsa passages, lotsa dead ends and drops to unknown depths. but we eventually find a pokemon! but, like, its weird. its a carbink but it isnt right. its crystals are orange, its eyes are empty. it leads us to somd sort of.... colony? mostly consisting of more carbink and some sableye. none of them were right, man. in the center of their... village(?) was a giant version of the crystal thst grew out of the carbink and sableye. a sickly orange hue... like a sunset but Evil.

they were pretty hospitable things considered.... but not much for conversation. barely responded when i asked things. the sableye were... eerily still. if you know anything about that species you know they never stand still. everything moved like clockwork, like, like a hivemind. every day at around the same time theyd all gather and stare at the center crystal and just.... chant. droning on for who knows how long.

they let me walk about freely enough, but one area was off limits. i had a sinking feeling that, maybe that was the exit. or maybe there was something there that i needed to see. so i waited for their chanting session and snuck behind them all. Bane took out the only sentry they had for me carefully and quietly descending from the roof of the cave. felt like a secret stealth mission. woulda been fun if... yknow.. what happened next hadnt happened.

behind where they didnt want me to see was my poor charizard. he was not in good shape at the time. he... i knew he wasnt around a day or two but... plenty of my roaming pokemon liked doing their own thing. i didnt know he was in trouble. i didnt know. it was my fault. he was covered in those crystals, they were *eating* him.

i remember hearing an alarm and the crystalized pokemon gathering behind us. i remember bane trying to get my attention. i remember staring blankly and i remember screaming how they hurt him and... then i dont remember anything else.

alistair, my roommate and occasional pain in the ass, found me after he claimed he heard an "explosion. the cave system had completely collapsed." bane, char and i were fine, but all unconcious. i.. i dont know what happened exactly but. i think i did something. i think i may have hurt those pokemon. it wasnt their fault i think those cystals were controlling them and i killed them and i dont even remember doing it i dont even know what exactly happened

ive been on the lookout for those weird rock cystal things again. for a while some stuck on my hands but eventually they fell off, guess my hands didnt have room for more weird stuff on them, kihihi. my pokemon all have a buddy system now and have to report nightly to be sure theyre all alright if they roam

we all survived at least. char cant fly anymore though. its my fault.

[bunnakit]

god this is so stupid but here's a really dumb story about my mom and flamingos

so my mom likes weird stuff, it's always been her thing. growing up we had a "shelf of weird finds." anyway - so like a year ago she got herself a pair of Crocs with flamingos on them bc they were goofy. like a week later one of the stores nearby had a flamingo patterned purse so she was like fuck it sure why not

well i am nothing if not committed to the bit so for every single gift for the past year and a half i've gotten my mom something flamingo related. mothers day she got a flamingo Warmees stuffy, her birthday i got her cups with flamingos on them, i bought her a giant TY beanie baby flamingo just because i saw it in the store, the liquor store had a flamingo shaped cup with a straw so i got it for her, etc. etc.

it got to the point where my shopping history was suggesting flamingo products to me and one day i got a suggestion for a bag of 100 tiny silicone lawn flamingos and i knew what i had to do.

i completely forgot i had this bag of 100 tiny flamingos until tonight while my mom was at work. my husband and i then set across the house and hid so many flamingos across the house. they're in the fridge, the cabinets, on the fish tanks, the entertainment center, plant pots, the butter dish, etc. you cannot escape these flamingos (i did not put out all 100 bc i had shit to do with my day)

my mom just got off work and called me fucking CACKLING because she keeps finding flamingos everywhere. my 52 year old mom is now wandering around the house trying to find them all like it's Easter and she keeps calling me when she finds them in weird places and it's such a delight for both of us.

i'm never going to stop buying my mom flamingo shit, this is so funny. they aren't even her favorite animal, not even close.

[fandomregression]

perhaps some petre Gunpowder Tim headcanons? Maybe? I’m so insane about him he’s such a little guy

take my hand. we shall be insane together

Pet Regressor Gunpowder Tim Headcanons!

okay, step one. puppy. hims just a silly puppy with a lot of energy

of course tim has basically acquired any and all gear that he could possibly want considering he's in space and has been for who knows how long. he has his favorite ears (the ones i posted before bc those adorable) and a tail to match. he's got a dark blue collar with stars all over it and a lil bone-shaped tag that just says "gunner" on it

tim also loves collecting puppy toys, so he has so many rope toys, so many tennis balls, stuffies, squeaker toys, whatever he can get his hands on. jonny hates this

jonny has threatened many times to disembowel tim's squeaker toys and steal the squeakers, but tim knows he's full of shit. he squeaks his toys even louder just to annoy jonny

i know it can be a little ehhhh in some circles, but i think he'd have a crate. a big crate that he stuffs with a heating mat, a bunch of blankets, those old padded crib guards, etc. he puts string lights along the top, and then he covers the crate with another blanket. sometimes if everything is just too overwhelming and terrible, tim will just crawl into his puppy crate and shut the door as a sign to not bother him

puppy time is one if the few times that they can get fruit or veggies in him. it's easy to say things like "well puppies LOVE blueberries!! it's a treat!!!" and trick him a lil bit into eating healthy stuff

marius even hides meds for him in peanut butter. this amuses him to no end that it WORKS

tim has gotten hold of his guns approx. 3 times while he's been a puppy, and all 3 times resulted in him getting chased around the ship by his crewmates with them fussing for him to drop them. the chaos just makes him wanna do it again but his efforts are always thwarted

jonny is still his main cg i cannot let that go its too cute to me. he cannot fight it when he just has a big ol puppy boy plop down on him and demand cuddles

they don't use a leash on him that would feel weird, and tim has just flat-out said no, but they do have a harness! like a kid harness, it even has a plush puppy on the back of it. they put it on him when they leave the ship just because if he sees a bird or bug he WILL run after it

he still uses a paci sometimes when he's a pup, and he has a clip for it that attaches to his collar so he never loses it (he still loses it sometimes)

world class champion barker right there he can bark. he can yap. he can howl if he so desires. the possibilities are endless and jonny is endlessly holding his head in his hands

do NOT give him a bath he will lose his mind (this is a lie. please give him a bath he's rolled around in mud. no one knows where the mud came from)

[gravegrime]

WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION

👻 Welcome to the graveyard 👻

Hello!  I’ve never realized that there was a wealth of passionate storytellers sitting right under my nose this entire time.  I kinda figured this community was more for novelists and not… well whatever the hell you’d call me.  Figured I’d outstretch a gnarled hand to see if anyone’s brave enough to take it.

ABOUT MY WRITING

I’m not a huge fan of sticking the things I make into boxes as most of them sit in weird nooks and crannies that make labeling them specific things feel a tad inaccurate.  As a general trend however most of my stories have some flavor of horror influence in them.  Something is never quite right, but to what degree depends on the story.  They’re often set in completely original fantasy settings bearing little resemblance to what we would consider normal.  I have a trend of child or young protagonists (probably the cartoon influence coming in there) figuring out their place in the world or something fundamental about themselves.  Coming of age stories, stuff like that.  Found family is also abound in many shapes and flavors across my many half developed stories.  

My stories are almost exclusively long serialized affairs focusing more on character development than plot intricacy.  I won’t claim them to be simple but the thrust is definitely on character motivations.  I like to write stories about people being people without a looming calamitous threat or great quest they must go on.  There’s something charming about normal people dealing with the cards they’re dealt the best they can.  I definitely have stories about fantastic quests and imposing dangers it’s just a bit of a coin flip which one you’ll be getting with me!

I also have a small list of concepts I make a point of not attempting in any of my writings.  Time travel, prophecies, immortality, and resurrections are all things I avoid for various reasons.  You’ll likely never come across them in any of my stories.  No hate towards any of these concepts, except time travel, they are just some ideas I don’t find any real enjoyment in including in my works.

ABOUT ME

Oh what’s to tell?  Name’s Alex, but if real names wig you out Grave or Grime work just fine.  I’m a twenty eight year old professional animator, but you won’t be hearing much about that here.  I like to keep work and hobbies separate.  Here I’m mostly an artist but I’m going to be trying to branch out to share more about my stories.  Keeping all this nonsense up in my noggin has got to be a bad idea, ya know?

Regardless, despite my focus on art on the social medias my real passion has always been storytelling!  Stories have been my life blood for as long as I can remember. From my mother reading me stories before I went to sleep, to trying to write my own short stories in middle school, to a brief but passionate fling with filmmaking back in highschool.  The latter serves as the base for a lot of my writing practices and techniques to this day!  In truth my switch to comics/animation/arts was primarily a practical choice as I feel those mediums allow me to best express my ideas with the least reliance on other people.

I’m a fan of the weird and strange with an emphasis on the fantastical and horrific.  Cartoons are my bread and butter, they’re something I can talk endless hours about the merits of them as a medium, but there isn’t a medium of storytelling I really shy away from.  I love the craftsmanship behind the construction of stories and characters and am always very eager to go on long conversations about the fundamental structure of storytelling.  Also a big fan of hypotheticals and working out plot/character/world points with anyone willing to put up with me.

MY WIPS

Time for the meat and potatoes, let's get into it!  I have a lot of stories, all receiving a varying level of attention, and because of this I tend to run two or three stories I’m actively working on at this moment.  I’ll be detailing two of three stories that I’m focusing on right now.  The third is a new work that I haven’t unveiled to anyone yet.  I’m giving it time to cook before I show it off, but rest assured it’s shaping up very well!

Grimm Deeds (GD)

A long form story following the adventures of Corny, a young boy with the ability to interact with ghosts, ghouls, and spirits, after being taken under the Grimm Reaper.  Though there seems to be an ulterior motive behind the reaper’s tutelage.  Tons of crazy and macabre escapades await the relatively normal boy as he learns what his abilities truly mean.  

Grimm Deeds is like a love letter to halloween and all things a little bit spooky.  It’s jam packed with magic, monsters, and all those spooky delights I love!  I really think it shines through in its characters though.  Without tooting my own horn too much I think they have a surprising amount of depth given how goofy the whole thing appears on the surface.  It being about the Grimm Reaper and his position in the world it also deals with death as a concept quite a bit.  Something I always have a good deal of fun exploring!

In the Dominion of Hate (DoH)

An animatic style story about the unfortunate misunderstanding that befalls Lilium of Bliss leading to her being cast from her home into the Dominion of Hate.  Wishing to prove her innocence, and encouraged by the abstraction Query, she embarks on an epic quest across the black sea of turmoil to find a way back home!  Primarily a story about self discovery, even if Lilium isn’t fully aware at first, in the Dominion of Hate is a swashbuckling adventure across the strange and surreal sea of turmoil.  Watch a young lady with no conception of the world but a willingness to learn befriend horrific monsters and gods of conception because she’s just so darn charming!

I’m sure people don’t like to play favorites like this but Lilium is actually my favorite character I’ve ever made.  She’s got a very unique but fascinating way of thinking thanks to her equally bizarre upbringing and I can’t wait to share that with you all!

FINAL WORD

I have so many stories that I’ll likely be creating a master list as an intro to them all at some point soon.  If this writeblr intro strikes your fancy please feel free to stick around!  I’m always down to talk shop with anyone and really don’t care how people interact with me!  I’m just kinda here to hang out and have a good time.  We vibin’.

[hermitblurbs]

A continuation of my Steampunk AU (7)!

Grian had grown to accept his weird attachment to Scar, if with a bit of hesitance. The other was good conversation in a town where everyone else was incredibly boring. It’s why he stuck around with broken machines so often; there’s nothing to predict about them.

Scar was fixed up, no sign of glitches like in N.P.C or Grumbot, and Grian couldn’t predict him if his life depended on it. Whatever AI in the bot’s brain was fascinating, and the strange logic it followed always managed to keep him enraptured.

It quelled that bored drawl in the back of his mind, on a good day.

Today, even with Scar by his side, seemed to crawl along at a slug’s pace.

The wastes were turning up useless scrap after useless scrap, Mumbo too busy with a commission to entertain him, even the ticking of his wings was the same as ever. They didn’t even ache. At least then, complaining or not, wouldn’t leave him bored.

If he’s being honest, he probably shouldn’t have gone out to scavenge.

Days like these are best kept in line by staying in a place with overarching rules, a guarantee he won’t overstep anything and end up missing more than a chunk of wing.

The wastes don’t have that. They have metal, radiation, rust, and scavengers.

“This is a lot further than we’ve travelled before,” remarks Scar, frayed gas mask making him seem bizarrely human, bizarrely out of place in one of mumbo’s white button up and a false corset. He knows by the whirl of Scar’s fans, that the green metal would be warm to the touch.

He climbs the hill anyway.

There’s the clanging of other scavengers, only two of them at the foot, and they’re pulling something out of a shaking pile that’s large and expensive.

“Ooh, a lucky find for those fellas!”

Grian says nothing in return.

His wings click. Once. Twice.

Take it from them.

He widens his stance, careful not to make a sound on copper and aluminum and iron.

Imagine how excited Mumbo will be.

His wings spread like butter across the sky.

And he jumps. Dives, towards the two.

What should’ve happened was a simple wrap of his hands around the machinery and an arc back into the air and away. What should’ve happened would have been enough to satiate his boredom. What should’ve happened, is that he should have been faster.

What did happen, is that he gets his hands curled around the machine. He’s on the upbeat of his wings, when a hand wraps around his ankle.

He registers the impact. He registers the stars. He registers how the metal crumples beneath him, denting and damaging the scrap.

And then he registers the pain of being slammed into the ground.

“What the fuck, you little asshat!” The nearest one sounds. Their mask is colored the same white as the gleam of a jawbone. They raise a foot and stomp on Grian’s hand, grinding it into the dry dirt with the heel.

He has half a mind to scan the hills for Scar, but the android is lost among the shadows and the piles of scrap encircling them. His heart sinks.

“Hey, dude!” Comes the second one—their mask is layered to look like a growing of fungus. “Take it easy, they’re already down.”

“Their mask is cool,” remarks the third, the one his missed and the one who grabbed him. Their mask is simple and plain, a stark contrast to his own, hooked in the shape of a beak. They’re dressed in dark browns, almost blended completely against the ground.

“That doesn’t matter, they tried to *steal* from us. Why I oughta—“ And they grab his wing.

Something in his mind goes a little haywire. The bones there are fragile, half-molded to metal and muscle, and he does his darnedest to bash their faces in with the prosthetic.

He manages to clip Shrooms across the temple, drawing his knife and lunging at another, but it doesn’t last long. It was never going to last long, three against one. But he gets some good hits in, spills enough blood.

He ends up fully pinned, a boot against his back and his racing heartbeat prominant in the pressure from a steady, constant pull of his wing in a scavenger’s hand.

“What’s going on here?” Comes a familiar voice, and Grian feels like crying. If they leave him alive, at least Scar can get him back to Mumbo.

“Are you with this vulture,” one of them spits.

“I am, and I promised he’s very much learned his lesson—“

“He sliced my arm open,” they growl. And yeah, he did do that. The drip of blood fills him with a cruel pride that they’re going to need to go home after this and waste the day away.

“You deserved it,” he calls back, and is rewarded with a particularly painful tug on his wing.

“Fellas, I promise you that if you let him go, you’ll never see us ever again. Heck, we’ll even leave you little things for yourself to improve profits! How’s that for a deal?”

“How about instead we slice his throat?” And he knows it’s a bluff. Killing someone over a single piece of scrap is ludicrous, and these guys don’t seem insane enough to do it to a first-time offender. They’re farther than typical from their bubble, and while Grian’s had his own fair share of death threats they’ve only ever been serious in total nowhere. It’s got to be a bluff. It has to be.

He’s going to die if it’s not.

Grian looks up, eyes following metal legs to Scar’s face to find the other staring directly at him.

He doesn’t know what Scar sees in him, but he hears his fan kick on just beneath the noise of the wastes.

The android steps forward, steps closer. Grian can’t tell a single thing about what he’s thinking, but he knows his neck is starting to ache from the angle he’s keeping it at to keep Scar in view. Something about the quiet won’t let him look away. Scar rears back a fist.

And then he hears the crack of bone.

The weight falls off his back, his wing, and Grian is left staring into empty space as Scar takes measured steps behind him, and out of view.

The impacts behind him begins to sound wet, like the repeated thump of a hammer against drowned wood.

Grian has dabbled a bit, long before he met Mumbo, in engineering himself. It was more buildings than robots, trains instead of anything that breathes. But there’s one thing he still remembers, clear as day.

A robot may not injure a human being.

So what does that make the thing in front of him?