#' i mean at least it's still partially edible '

[iiguess]

" isn't ketchup just tomato sauce to the left—-? "

#;; dash commentary. #;; ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ( ic. ) #;; mobile tag. #;; main verse. #everlastiingiimmortals #' i mean at least it's still partially edible ' #' it's better than mayo at least ' #<- said by someone who had to make do with what she had

[literaila]

stress baking

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you bake a cake and satoru tries to distract you

warnings: mom guilt (angst), fluff, satoru, etc.

last part | next part

*

year five.

“ooo,” satoru reaches a hand across the counter, fingers about to contaminate everything in the kitchen. “frosting.” 

you're slouching against the oven, trying to pretend like the cakes have been cooling long enough to frost when he comes in. 

and you know immediately that you've been caught. satoru can read your mind with a mere glance most days, and so you try to avoid his eyes. because really--you don't need (or want) his input about this

you slap his hand away, turning away from the cakes. “don’t touch,” you tell him, glaring. “i don’t know where your hands have been.” 

satoru grins at you, leaning against the counter so he can observe your corrupted workspace. “i can assure you that you do.” 

you roll your eyes, flipping a cake pan over. it shouldn't take too much longer, really. just a couple... hours. 

“what is this? did i forget about a birthday?” he looks up suddenly, startled. “was it yours?” 

you scoff, moving every edible thing away from his reach, and still don't look up at him. but you can still feel every moment he makes, like a secret intuition. 

as if knowing this, satoru smiles, leaning his elbows against the counter, face in hands, just watching you. “nah, i wouldn’t forget that.” 

“hmm, when’s my birthday again?” 

“it’s… uhhh a day. once a year," you make a face, scrunching your nose away from him, and he resolves. “the best day of the year?” 

you ignore him--and your stupid instinct to look at his face, in his eyes, and observe every expression he makes--wishing that cakes were sturdier. it's late enough that you already know this is going to be a disaster. can you make cement appetizing? 

“no, really,” satoru waves a hand in your face. “what is this?” 

“it’s a cake.” 

“for what?” 

“tsumiki.” 

he raises a brow, tapping on your forehead to get you to pay attention to him. “is it her birthday?” 

“no, you deadbeat dad, her birthdays in may.” 

“right.” 

you roll your eyes again, cutting the top off of the cake. still, you try to keep your eyes concealed from him. your entire being--even though you're well aware that it's futile. 

satoru can feel it when you cut yourself shaving in the shower, so it's likely that he already knows what you're doing. 

and exactly why you're doing it. 

but, you can play chicken with him for hours. you're very used to pretending like he doesn't know what you know that he knows. very very good. 

“sooo..." satoru drawls, voice bright and smiley. like the demon he is. "what’s it for?” 

you sigh, wanting to throw the excess cake at him. “can you use some critical thinking skills? just once, please?” 

“why would i do that when you could just tell me?” 

unforunately, the two of you both know that he's not going to leave without an answer. he's purposefully using your greatest weakness--his face, your heart, your irritating want to tell him every thought that crosses your mind--against you. 

but who's fault is that if not your own?

“she’s worried about a test tomorrow,” you say, slowly, finally turning to look at him, trying not to wince. “so i’m making her a cake.” 

satoru is already grinning, hand partially covering his mouth. you glare at his terrible attempts not to laugh at you. 

at least his eyes are pretty. his cheeky eyebrows and stupid knowing look. without the view, you know, satoru would mean absolutely nothing to you (and everything, of course).

“will it give her superpowers?” 

“shut up, gojo, what are you doing to help?” 

“not worrying about it," he answers easily, "tsumiki’s a genius, she doesn’t need your anxiety too.” 

“i’m not anxious.” 

he smiles at you, tilting his head. 

you crack, trying not to squeeze the offset spatula in your hand. “whatever. last time she got in a fight with akio you tried to buy her a kitten. i’m not taking your criticism," you look away from him, frowning. but before he can say anything, you add. "or your advice."

“the kitten wasn’t just for her,” he says, whining. “it was an addition.” 

“an addition i was going to take care of.” 

“tsumiki wouldn’t have to worry about a test if she had a soft, cute, cuddly little baby kitten to cuddle with.” 

you refrain a smile. “that’s redundant.” 

“you changed the trajectory of her life by telling me no. she'll probably go to prison now," satoru sighs, shaking his head at you. 

“yup. it’s all my fault.” 

he laughs, reaching a long arm over you to try and steal some frosting again, but you grab his wrist and push it away. he frowns, but asks, “are you going to let her eat this for breakfast?” 

you pause, looking back at him (he's already smirking because you've had that conversation a dozen times) then you look back at the cake you’re currently mutilating. “um…” 

satoru shakes his head. “so she doesn’t even get to have any until after the test? what's the point in that?" 

"the point," you say, glaring at him. "is that it's nice. i want to do something for her." 

"bake a cake?" 

"shut up." 

he laughs again. "you're such a nerd." 

"you can leave now." 

"what'd she say?" satoru asks, smiling up at you, brow perked. "'i have a test tomorrow?'" 

you huff, waving him away. "fine, no cake for you." 

"tsumiki probably didn't even tell you," he continues, cockily. "you probably read it in an email and immediately turned on the oven." 

"you are not helping." 

satoru snorts at you one more time, and then he stretches as he straightens up. 

your eyes dart towards him--and the sliver of skin you can see peaking out from under his shirt, very attuned muscles--and then away. you're not being caught again. 

but satoru is already smirking at you as he rounds the counter, hands traveling to your waist automatically, squeezing you to him--in a very uncomfortable position, by the way. 

he nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing obnoxiously. 

"satoru, i'm busy," you say, trying to sneak out of his hold. unfortunately, he's way stronger than you are.

your hands have been blocked by his hold, and you set down the spatula, forced to bend to the will of this very irritating co-parent of yours.

"you're so cute," he says, cooing into your head.

"i'll pour oil in your hair." 

he laughs, again. "then you'll have to take a shower with me." 

you push him away, finally, scowling. he only moves back a couple of inches. "not happening." 

"you realize that you're crazy, right?" satoru asks, still smiling, but a bit differently. it's less arrogant and more adoring. like he's completely star-struck, lost in the entirety of you. "this isn't news to you?" 

"i'm not crazy. i'm being nice." 

he continues to smile at you, ignoring your carefully pointed scowls and the harsh way to continue to frost the cake. "tsumiki will be fine. even if she fails her test, or gets sick, or..." he shakes his head, shrugging. "pulls the fire alarm so she doesn't have to take it." 

"i hope you're not encouraging the children to fake an emergency." 

"she's the smartest kid in that class, sweetheart, she'll do fine. and would it really matter if she didn't?" 

you pause, biting your lip. no, it wouldn't matter, you should say. you should just tell him the increasingly worrisome thoughts that have been collecting in your head the past couple of weeks. you should've just helped her study more or made sure that she was feeling comfortable, or double-checked on her grades another time, or--

"well, she can have her cake as a reward," you say, instead, ignoring that last bit. 

you both already know the answer anyway. 

satoru is quick to wrap an arm around your shoulder, gentler this time, pulling your head to his chest with an impenetrable hold. "what's this really about?" 

"nothing." 

satoru's lips twitch, and it's silent for a moment, your disheartening 'nothing' ringing through the kitchen. 

he's so stupid. and you hate that he knows what's wrong already, but that he's gonna make you say it. and you hate that it's sweet, in its own, very annoying way.

and then you break.

you sigh, a grumble coming from the back of your throat. "i just think i've been too worried about megumi lately. i mean school and missions and..." 

satoru raises a brow at you. "okay?" 

"and then there's you, too," you add, giving him a look. but it's dropped very quickly, as you look down to the floor. "do you think i've been paying enough attention to tsumiki?" you ask, softly. 

tsumiki has always been good at taking care of herself, that much was obvious when you met her--when satoru told you what the two kids had been doing for months, all on their own. 

but you don't want her to have to take care of herself. or feel like she should, just to make it easier on you both. 

she's far too people-pleasing, far too sweet to tell either of you if you're missing something. she could have a broken arm and walk around like nothing was wrong until you finally asked. 

you swallow, then continue. "you and megumi are important, but i don't want her to feel ignored just because i've been preoccupied." 

"wow. i'm just a distraction to you?" satoru asks, pouting. 

"you know what i mean," you whisper, shrugging. 

really, you know these are just venomous thoughts. trying to hit you where it hurts. 

but there's that part of you that isn't sure. if you're usually wrong, why shouldn't you be right this one time?

"you pick them both up every day, feed them, put them to bed, help with their homework..." satoru shrugs, never seeing the things that you do; stronger than you'll ever be. "how could she feel ignored?" 

"well, i've been spending more time with megumi trying to figure out his shikigami. and you and i have been going over those books, and tsumiki can't be a part of any of that so she probably feels left out, and i haven't been doing anything with her anyway--" 

"woah," satoru interrupts, a brow raised. "what's wrong with you?" 

you glare, trying to push him away to no avail. "get out, satoru. i need to finish this." 

"no, i'm serious." he holds a hand to your forehead. "are you sick? did you hit your head on something?" both of his hands grab onto your face, squeezing your cheeks together. 

"stop," you say, muffled from his pinching. 

"you're so..." satoru shakes his head, every word going unsaid. "she doesn't feel ignored. she couldn't, because you're very clingy." 

"not as clingy as you." 

satoru laughs, pinching a bit harder in retaliation. "okay, so there's two of us. at this point, tsumiki is probably looking for other families to go live with." 

"she wouldn't leave megumi." 

his grin widens. his eyes are thoughtful, careful. "you spend time with her every day. you probably know more about her schedule than she does. megumi is..." satoru tilts his head. "difficult, and a priority. but tsumiki knows she is too." 

"i just don't want her to feel lonely. or unimportant," you whisper to him, eyes darting down to his chest. 

you know that it's a natural reaction, to want more for your kids. to want to protect them from your own feelings, however different the situations might be. 

when satoru tells you that tsumiki reminds him of you there's that scared, cowardly little girl who recoils in response, flinching away from that idea. you never want her to feel like you do, to be like that little girl. 

but unless you can erase history, you're not sure that it's possible.

satoru's eyes soften, looking at you. he breathes out, letting go of your face finally. then he leans down so his forehead rests against yours, shaking his head. "you're the most ridiculous person i know." 

your eyes are forced upon his and you finally crack a smile. "have you met yourself?" 

"megumi spends more time with us because he doesn't have any friends," satoru tells you, ignoring your glare at the statement. "tsumiki's just cooler than him." 

"i'm gonna let him hide your blindfolds." 

satoru rolls his eyes, but he shakes his head again. he's just staring at you, so you know that he's not going to entertain your pity party any longer. 

at least he knows that there's no point in arguing when you're not going to listen to reason.

you nod, looking away from him, back to the counter of destruction. "okay, i'll just finish this for her. i already started, so i might as well--" 

"finish it in the morning," satoru says, finger forcing your face back to his.

"not how that works, satoru." 

"put everything away, and finish in the morning," he repeats, trying ridiculously hard to sound stern--but it's almost impossible with the smile that leeches onto his face. "she can have some after school." 

"but i just want--" 

satoru shakes his head, shaking your jaw with his hand. "you're tired. go to bed." 

you cross your arms. "since when i have i ever done anything you said?" 

"since i said so," satoru answers, as a finality. 

and then he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your waist, getting a secure hold so he can pick you up, hoisting you across his shoulder before he can say anything. 

it's about as gently as satoru does anything, but still surprisingly comfortable.

you squirm against him, though, ignoring that thought, making sure not to squeal at the sudden feeling of being swept off your feet. the children are asleep. "put me down,” you hiss at him.

"nope. it's bedtime." 

"satoru gojo, i swear--" 

he just laughs, removing you both from the kitchen and continuing down the hall. 

but instead of stopping at your door and depositing you in your bed--probably finding a key to lock you in with--he continues to his own room, opening and door and spinning around so he can shut it softly. 

you don't have the time to question his motives or meanings before you're already trapped in the enclosed space with him, with none of the willpower to argue with him. 

your room is cold anyway. 

satoru walks you both over to the bed, laying you down in his usual spot, head against the pillow (he ignores the glare you have pointed up at him). 

he shrugs off the sweater he's wearing, throwing it somewhere behind him like the teenage boy he is, and then lays down. 

right on top of you, of course. 

his body is sprawled across yours, your shoulder digging into his chest. but his arms are on either side of you as he holds himself up so that he can continue to look at you. 

he has boxed you in completely. and just his eyes on yours keep you from any viable means of escape. 

you breathe in his face and frown. "i hate you." 

"shhh," satoru is grinning, his face bright enough to be seen in the dark. "we're sleeping. can't hear you." 

"you're heavy, satoru," you complain, pushing at his chest with an ounce of strength. it doesn't work because you don't want it to. 

satoru pretends to snore, but he's still several inches above you. his face is close enough that you can see little scars, and the flecks of white in his eyes. he's looking at every part of your face, every single inch of your being. 

your eyes should focus on his, but you're used to this. so, after a moment, they trail across his face, to the bridge of his nose, and down to the swell of his lips. 

there's light coming in from his window, the moon flattering satoru completely (not that he needs any help). 

and, right now, as he keeps himself just above you, satoru's smile is gentler than ever. 

it lacks the bravado, the carelessness he usually exudes. but it's full of something else, probably something more. 

and you're the only person that gets this smile. the slightly drowsy, completely sure one. 

so you keep your eyes on it for a moment too long, but it's really not your fault at all. 

you could just kiss him and fall asleep.

he's looking at you like that's what he wants you to do, and you know that you're probably looking at him the same way. a simple kiss and the two of you would pass out, unbothered by the aches you'll wake up to, or the body weight that could suffocate you.

but you've never made things that easy. 

when satoru leans down, his entire back tensing, muscles probably straining from staring at you for this long, you sigh. 

satoru pauses, moving back a centimeter, checking your eyes for something--his are bathed in temptation, basking in desire, and you're sure that yours are just an echo of all of that. 

but it's the perfect opportunity. 

he leans in again, but you interrupt. 

"i still need to put everything away," you whisper to him, cheek twitching. 

satoru groans and his head falls against your shoulder. 

you tangle your hands through his hair and giggle into his ear until you can feel the goosebumps across the skin of his biceps. 

*

"so, tsumiki, how'd your test go?" 

you glare at satoru, trying not to look at how tsumiki reacts. you've decided that you don't care. 

tsumiki is always happy, satoru told you this morning, she might be on drugs. 

and, well, you couldn't quite disagree with him (the first part, not the second. he got a smack for that).

she nods, forking her piece of cake again. "good," she answers, through the bite that's already in her mouth. 

"was it a hard one?" 

"nope!" 

satoru gives you a look. a very familiar 'i told you so' look. 

you roll your eyes, giving megumi a piece of cake which he takes begrudgingly. 

"shut up," you tell him.

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #a typical family

[minecraft-inspo]

Why are slimes placed as an early branch off of the kingdom Animalia? 

Slimes are enigmatic. Taken at face value, they could fit anywhere or nowhere in the tree. They tick all of the boxes required to be defined as an animal, but don’t closely resemble any real phylum, though they do bear some resemblance to certain basal animal groups such as ctenophores and cnidarians. 

Why is the elytra branching off from the insects?

The word elytra refers to the hard wings of beetles. This is where beetles would be placed on the tree.

Why is the shulker a mollusk?

It’s a shelled invertebrate - anything beyond this is unclear. It has a pair of shells like a bivalve, but could belong to any of a number of different related groups. 

Why is the sea pickle so close to vertebrates?

The sea pickle is either based on a real life sea cucumber (an echinoderm), or a sea pickle (a tunicate). Either way, both of these groups are deuterostomes, which means they, like us, develop their anus before their mouth. Yeah. 

Why are guardians labeled as manufactured?

It’s an idea I’m not totally sold on, but a theory nevertheless. It has been posited that guardians were created to guard underwater monuments and are not actually animals. I am of the opinion that if this is the case, they are still at least partially biological, as they do drop edible raw fish. In this case, they likely represent a lineage of jawless fish comparable to real life ostracoderms that was further modified for their role as temple guardians. 

Why are the dragon and sniffer related? Why do they branch off the tree so early?

Both are 6 limbed, meaning they are not tetrapods, the group which includes all real terrestrial vertebrates. Instead, they may represent a different lineage of fishes which separately developed a third limb girdle and then followed a line of parallel evolution with the tetrapods. This is comparable to the various invasions of land by arthropods, in which arachnids, myriapods and insects separately evolved mechanisms of terrestrialization while also convergently evolving many of the same structures as each other. 

Aren’t creepers described as “plant-like?” Why are they included with the vertebrates?

They have indeed often been described as plant-like by various developers. It is my belief that they are vertebrates with a symbiotic relationship with some form of plant, probably a moss. This is why they are also included in Bryophyta on the other side of the tree. All promotional merchandise that shows creeper internal anatomy shows the presence of bones and the general anatomy reflects a familiar yet distorted version of the common tetrapod body plan. They do not share much in common with either reptiles or mammals, and so I split them off early in the vertebrate portion of the tree. While creepers share a developmental history with pigs, they do not actually bear any synapomorphies to suggest this relationship is canon, and so I chose not to place them nearby. 

Why are phantoms reptiles?

I’m honestly not sure what else they could be. The underside of the texture reminds me of the plastron of a turtle, though the wings are arguably more bat-like than anything else. Phantoms are all undead and their living version is likely now extinct, so we can’t fully understand the anatomy they would have had. 

Why are striders synapsids? What is a synapsid?

Synapsids are mammals and their extinct, reptile-like ancestors. Striders have hair, like living mammals, but otherwise share very little with modern mammals, suggesting they split off early in synapsid evolution.

What is the warden/sculk?

I don’t know. It’s very purposefully the most alien life in Minecraft. Most realistically, I think it’s not from the overworld at all. However, that’s not really in the spirit of this project. Therefore, I hypothetically place it as a fungus, as fungi are capable of the sprawling growth in dark environments and possible parasitism in the case of the warden itself. 

Why are blazes labeled as “manufactured?”

I haven’t got a clue what blazes could be. Are they sentient fire? Are they living creatures that mimic fire? Who knows. I finally ended up considering them to be something akin to vexes or golems - summoned by someone or something to guard nether fortresses, rather than naturally evolved creatures. This is actually supported by a really old (and likely since retconned) article from the Minecraft website. https://www.minecraft.net/en-us/article/visit-nether- 

Why is glow lichen connected to two separate branches?

Because lichen is a symbiotic structure formed by both algae and fungi!

Why are chorus plants where they are?

They are angiosperms, meaning they bear flowers and fruit, but do not have the characteristics of either of the more derived major lineages of flowering plants.

Why are dripleaf plants alismatales?

To me, they bear a great resemblance to members of the arum family, such as elephant ear plants, arrowhead plants, and Monstera. 

Torchflower?

It bears greatest resemblance to bromeliads, a group of plants related to grasses.

Why is the spore blossom placed where it is?

The spore blossom is another anomalous species. If “spore” is taken seriously, it must be a fern. However, ferns don’t have flowers, so I assumed the spores are actually just pollen. I placed it as a dicot based on the fact that dicots typically have flowers with 4-5 petals, while monocots have flowers with petals in multiples of 3. 

Why aren’t vines and glow berry vines placed together?

The “vine” form has evolved dozens of times in separate lineages of plants, just like the “tree” form. It alone is not enough to indicate a close relationship. I tentatively placed vines where the grape family would go, and placed the glow berries where staff vines (Celastrus) should be. 

Why aren’t dead bushes grouped with sweet berry bushes and azaleas?

Like vines and trees, “bush” is a description of a body form and not an evolutionary group. I depicted the dead bush as a real form of desert bush, a tumbleweed, specifically the Russian thistle, a common tumbleweed in the order Caryophyllales.

Sweet berries, on the other hand, are most likely based on lingonberries, a commonly grown crop in Sweden, where Mojang is based. These belong to the order Ericales along with azaleas, as well as many other common plants not yet represented in the game such as blueberries and cranberries. 

Pitcher plants are real - why isn’t there a “confirmed” lineage on the tree?

Pitcher plants have evolved several times in different lineages, and there is no clear indication which ones the ones in Minecraft are. In fact, most likely, the Minecraft pitcher plants don’t belong to any real group of pitcher plants, as none of these produce “pods” nor do they have similar leaves. However, the most likely candidates are the family Nepenthaceae (order Caryophylalles) or the family Sarraceniaceae (order Ericales).

#minecraft #infographic #explanation #evolution #biology

[redwolf17]

Cake-pocalypse: Return of the Frosting-ing

Some of you may recall I've mentioned being busy with a cake-pocalypse. Well, here's the end result. I made both of these cakes, from scratch, for my parents' 50th anniversary party last weekend. Now that it's over, I thought it'd be fun to do a post about it, because while there's tons of popular baking shows, it's not a topic everyone necessarily knows about.

So, what goes into making cake for approximately 100 people?

Step 1) Baking the wedding cakes

A) The tiered cake was based on a photo of my parents' original wedding cake. To replicate it, I needed four tiers of vanilla cake, which meant eight layers of cake, two for each tier.

Fun fact: I learned how to bake from my mom, who is a talented home baker. I made my first cake by myself at age 9, and then gradually expanded my skills through years of practice. And when I say my mom is talented, I mean it; she's made wedding cakes for at least half a dozen friends and family over the years. It was only right that I use my mom's favorite wedding cake recipe for the batter; I think I ended up using 6 batches to make all the tiers, plus 2 dozen cupcakes to use up extra batter.

B) Once the cakes had cooled, I wrapped them in plastic wrap and put them in the freezer overnight. This firms up the cake's "crumb" or structure, making it easier to work with. By this point, it was late Sunday night; baking the cakes had taken almost all day. What with work and errands, I didn't resume work on the cakes until Thursday night. After partially thawing the cakes, I leveled each one by cutting off the tops where the cake had domed. This is a crucial step to make sure the cakes will stack properly; you don't want them tilting or toppling over.

C) Now that the cakes are leveled, they need their base coat of frosting. I used SO MUCH buttercream for these cakes CRY The trick is to frost them while they're still cold from the freezer, so the crumbs don't get into the frosting as much. Even so, every cake needed two coats of frosting, first the crumb coat, then, after a trip back to the freezer to set the frosting, a second coat to hide the crumbs stuck in the first coat. At this point, I was done (for now) with the wedding cakes, because I was NOT going to try to transport a completed four tier cake, which meant I couldn't stack/decorate them until the day of the party.

Step 2) Making the sheet cake

A) My entire day Saturday was spent baking, and it began with making the 12x18 chocolate sheetcake. It took three batches of cake batter; my favorite chocolate cake recipe is from Sally's Baking Addiction. I used the sour cream version, which is sturdier and thus would hopefully travel better.

B) Once the cake was baked, it took a loooong time to cool. You NEVER frost a warm cake, because the icing will melt and make a huge mess. Side note, this cream cheese frosting recipe is the best I've ever seen, and the coffee version I made by adding espresso powder turned out delicious.

C) After carefully chilling the cake in the fridge (it barely fit), I covered the entire cake with a chocolate glaze. The combination of chocolate cake + coffee cream cheese frosting + glaze comes from the Yule logs my mom makes every year, and which my dad and the rest of my family really love.

D) I draw a lot of practice grids and decoration ideas when I was first planning the cakes. I ended up deciding to do a pattern of frosting swirls with espresso beans, plus piping the message in the center. Since it is VERY hard to fix fuck ups, I practiced my calligraphy and my balloons on a piece of parchment paper before I put a piping bag anywhere near the cake. Once the buttercream had set, I painted it with a mixture of edible gold-colored pearl dust and vodka. Amazing stuff, a friend who has a home bakery recommended it. It was around 1am when the chocolate cake was done, and went back in the fridge to keep safe until the next day.

Step 3) Piping roses

While the chocolate cake was baking and cooling, it was time to work on decorations for the wedding cake. Buttercream roses are a pain in the ass, but since the original cake had them, this cake needed them too. Bless my niece, who served as my assistant for about 3 hours. My initial attempts at dyeing the frosting came out way too garish, but she tweaked them into the lovely shades of crimson and green you see here. She also held the flower nail so I could make my first 20 or so attempts at the roses using the Wilton technique. The buttercream was NOT cooperating at first; we had to add more powdered sugar to stiffen it, and then we had to keep putting the piping bags in and out of the fridge to get them to just the right consistency for piping. After my niece left, my bf held the flower nail for another 30+ roses. My hand and my arm were killing me by the end, but I was really worried about not having enough to cover the cake. Also, more practice meant better roses.

Step 4) Assembling the tiered cake

A) Sunday morning was D-Day. We got to the venue 3 hours early because I knew I'd need every minute to assemble and decorate the tiered cake. Each tier sits on a cardboard cake board, but that's not enough support. To counteract the inevitable peril of gravity, the center of each tier is filled with straws. These hold up the tiers above so they don't smush the cake below.

B) Once the tiers were stacked, I piped a swirl of vines, as close to the original cake as I could manage.

C) Then, very, very carefully, I stuck the buttercream roses on using a dab of fresh frosting. You have to work quickly; the buttercream roses are firm when you first take them out of the freezer or fridge, which means you can pick them up, but if you take too long, your fingers will melt the petals. I was terrified about placing roses on the vertical sides of the cake, but thank god, none of them fell off. Once the roses were in place, I added leaves to the vines and beneath the roses.

D) A close up of the final result. I finished literally 1 minute before the party was supposed to start, at which point I had to carry this from the venue's kitchen to the table where it would sit; my bf went in front of me to shoo people out of the way.

Step 5) Dealing with leftovers

a) Oh god, leftovers! The chocolate cake got demolished, as did the vanilla cake, once we sent some slices home, but there were still leftovers. Why? Because the way a tiered cake is served, you cut slices from the outside ring, but NOT from the center round which is stuffed full of straws. So... what to do with all that extra cake?

b) Well, if you pull the straws out and re-frost, then you've got three perfectly nice cakes. I already had plenty of extra frosting and roses, lol. My students were quite happy to take all this cake off my hands, though I only had enough slices for the first half of my classes.

c) However, I also still had SIX CUPS of cake crumbs from the offcuts which I'd cut off the cakes when I leveled them. Crumbs + frosting+ a dip in chocolate = cake pops! Massive, massive cake pops, lol, I used my biggest cookie scoop. The second half of my classes got these beauties, and a couple coworkers finished off the extras.

And that's it! God willing I won't make a cake again for quite a while, lol, this was exhausting.

#cake-pocalypse #baking #cake

[sybaritick]

Tell me more about Rodent Waterdeep I beg of you

I WILL

look i love furry partially because of worldbuilding opportunities. waterdeep's a rodent city, maybe ~70% still are although it's certainly changed with immigration patterns up and down the coast. a good twenty years ago they might refuse you a room at half the inns for being a canid; now, at the least, the only frustration you'll face is that the beds were likely built for someone a foot shorter!

a good percentage of them hibernate to some extent. Gale is a big hibernating species-- dormice, and by extension dormousepeople, will sleep a good 4 or 5 months! of course, he can't stand this, he's too ambitious and has too much to achieve, especially as archmage: he's using magical means to prevent him from having to sleep quite that much, though i imagine he's still not quite at the top of his game in the winter compared to the summer.

also due to this particular background I don't think Gale has thought as much about being edible as many of his kind have: he is in an important role and also in a city where prey species make up the vast majority of the population and nearly 100% of the people in political power, the risk of property crime in the Dock Ward may still annoy him at times but no one's out to take a bite. well, almost no one. i think Gale sees it as a bit of an archaic concern, something serious but generally not a modern problem. (and, if Astarion's or Gortash's sort are looking for someone to snatch up... well, surely Gale won't be their first target with how quickly he'd be noticed missing.)

#cal txt #asks

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Tasty cake. No grasshoppers needed.

When I was in high school, I took cooking as an elective. I'm not any great shakes at it, mind, but I can toss a cassarole dish in the oven and get something edible in the end, generally. There was one recipe, however, that I absolutely adored and was sure the hang on to so I could make it again in the future.

Naturally, the recipe was missing the next time Mum and I went to make it, so we have to sort of re-invent a little every time.

But the recipe is:

GRASSHOPPER CAKE

Now, for those of you who are unaware, at least in America 'grasshopper' in cooking normally means chocolate-mint. No actual grasshoppers involved. You can, occasionally get little boxes of grasshoppers as novelty food items, but they're not a protein staple here. So if you're wondering how on earth you can have grasshopper cake without grasshoppers, there's your answer.

(If, for some reason, you would like to add actual grasshoppers for protein content, try your local pet supply store. You may have to make due with crickets though.)

Now, the recipe goes something like this. You will need:

1 box white or yellow cake mix 1 jar hot fudge topping 2-4(?) tsps mint flavored stuff 1 pint whipping cream Food colouring (optional)

The original recipe specifically called for a white cake, because you were supposed to add green food colour to it. Yellow works just as well and, fun fact! Yellow is one of the primary colours that makes up green, so you can still add food colouring if you want to. Also, the original recipe called for creme de menthe as the mint flavor. Mum and I just use regular old extract.

You make the boxed cake according to the instructions, only you add food colouring if you like and some mint flavouring. How much? That's one of the things Mum and I can't remember. It's one or two teaspoons and every time we have a debate over which and every time, I'm pretty sure we do something different. Never had the cake taste bad, though, so I would say two tsps if you really like mint and one if you're a bit shy of strong mint flavor.

Once the cake is partially cooled (but not all of the way) heat your fudge topping to the point you can easily get it out of the jar and spread it over the top. You don't need the topping to be completely melted - the warm cake will help it move.

Let cool. Possibly refrigerate, if you're in a hurry.

When your cake is good and cool, mix up your whipped cream. Add more food colour if you like, whatever you prefer for sweeteners (if any) and another teaspoon or two of mint flavor.

If there's anything left once you and the entire family have sampled it, stick it in the fridge.

Variations:

At one point I did this with orange instead of mint. I forget why, but it was also tasty.

At one of my former jobs I had a coworker who loved choco-mint and cake and was sadly diabetic. I discovered that Pillsbury makes a very nice sugar free boxed yellow cake and Smucker's has you covered on sugar free hot fudge topping. Sweeteners, of course, have lots of options. TASTY CAKE FOR ALL!

#cake #grasshopper cake #tasty food stuff #chocolate mint #diabetic friendly

[yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation]

I was falling asleep and I thought about Tommy, Jake's twin brother.

And if she hadn't died, and if she had been left in a coma and awake after Neteyam's birth. He is in Pandora because the Na vi body was his, they knew he would wake up, they did not know when. So they transport him to Pandora.Jake doesn't send it back

They are twins, they have their birthday on the same day, but now Jake has another body, another birthday. Separated birthdays after more than 20 years and not because they are fighting, it is that they will never celebrate their birth together again.One is human the other Na vi. They would be further apart than ever and still missing each other. I am a twin, I have a brother. And we have never EVER celebrated apart. Even if we have a partner, we blow out our candles together even if they are 15 minutes, and then each one with their party or with their partner.

But we always celebrate by ourselves TOGETHER. Is our moment. Just thinking about it hurts me.

Right now he is with me, we both have insomnia, he is in my room we ate an Edible🍁, both with masks reading a Lovecraft book. We even share books. (I am extremely jealous with my books, apart from the fact that they are expensive because I read in Spanish, I don't like to lend them) Although he is a man and I am a woman. We share more and we get along better than I do with my sisters.

*we are 25. I can't imagine a good or bad moment in my life without my other half. We tell each other everything.💜💙

Couple of thoughts on this.

First waking from a coma is a long process, especially a long one like this. It isn't like in the movies where the person wakes up and suddenly they are all better. Not only does it take them a while to fully regain consciousness but it takes a long time to be able to do ANYTHING! I have had a couple of family members go through this process due to vehicle accidents and they had to relearn how to do almost everything. The physical therapy for that plus to help them regain muscle mass took one of my family members over a year.

Now second, I've know multiple sets of twins and all of them have a special connection like you and your brother do Anon. I do not think Jake would want to lose that, even if he thought Tommy was never going to wake up. In my mind Jake would wait until his actual birthday to be transfered to the Avatar body, that connection means to much to lose.

It would hurt too much knowing Jake as a Na'vi is already going to outlive Tommy by decades. Na'vi live so much longer than humans and that longevity would transfer, if not fully than partially, to the Avatar body thanks to the Na'vi part of the Avatar. Knowing he would have to watch Tommy grow old and die, whether he woke up or not, Jake would want to remain as connected to Tommy as he could.

I can see Norm radioing to tell Jake that Tommy was waking up. Jake would rush to Hell's Gate and be confused why Tommy was still unconscious. "I thought you said he was awake." Would be used at least once in a betrayed manner.

Norm would have to explain that Tommy is waking up but it will still be a while. He would have to explain that it will take a long time for Tommy to fully wake and even longer to be able to function. Norm isn't the kind to beat around the bush. He would explain in detail what Jake could expect.

For the next while Jake would be at Hell's Gate everyday, not all day but he would make sure to get there to check on his brother. Thanks to this Jake was there the first time Tommy actually woke up.

For the first time in years Jake and Tommy celebrate their birthdays together. Jake is like a kid in a candy store on this day, even if Tommy would love pointing out that he is now the older brother. "My body is older than yours... Little brother!" Or "When I was your age." Come on you can't tell me brothers, even twins, wouldn't poke fun at each other. It's what siblings do.

#jake sully #tommy sully #avatar the way of water #avatar #twin bond

[nerdwhoauthorinserts]

Not sure if my first ask got through, but here is my ask!

For Loki~

🟢/Emerald, 💙/Blue, and🔵/Indigo.

@askthelovenest

Emerald: Loki... can make something edible. Which is more than Thor can say, at least. However, considering they come from the same place, Loki really only knows the basics.

This is partially due to Loki's semi-royal status, so both he and Thor really never had to make food for themselves, meaning they never saw a reason to learn. When they weren't given food, it was when they were off on some 'quest' (for lack of a better word) or on the battlefield, which tended to result in them just eating nuts, berries, and whatever meat they could cook briefly without giving away their position.

So, Loki won't be under-cooking food like Thor might, but still shouldn't be given anything difficult to cook (Like steak, for example), otherwise it'll end up... well, you might as well just get takeout at that point. If he does cook something like that well, it's either the result of their magic, or it was well-cooked when they got it, lol.

Meanwhile, I actually really enjoy cooking. Specifically baking. I'm not an expert on everything, obviously, but I've made desserts from scratch before, among other things. (Tutorials and cooking videos help a lot, but besides that-)

Blue: Loki's usual M.O. when he's having a bad day is to seclude himself somewhere peaceful and relax, possibly read a book or practice some of his magic. ...But with me, that's not really how it goes.

I spoil people when I really care about them, and this little trait of mine gets boosted when they're in a bad mood, so usually, it'll result in Loki relaxing whilst I massage them, getting them some tea or make them a snack, and just generally having a sense of: 'I don't want you to have to lift a finger right now, just stay in bed and let me do everything for you'.

This happening even without Loki asking, mind you. Which is about 90% of the time, since Loki tends to try keeping feelings like that hidden.

For the reverse situation, it really tends to depend. Seeing as I have a weird thing when it comes to physical touch sometimes. (Most of the time I don't mind it, others I crave it, and other times I can't stand being touched.) Usually, it would be something along the lines of sitting next to me in bed or on the couch and just... sort of being there. Whether he decides to read aloud for me, or he watches something with me, chats with me, or what have you. Doing a bit of magic here or there to get my mind off of whatever might be bothering me isn't uncommon either.

Indigo:

This little moment in Dark world where Loki is just casually reading while everything is going to shit in the background will never not be funny to me.

#Bloki #ask response #ask answered #thanks for the ask! #selfship ask meme #self ship ask game #f/o ask game #f/o ask meme #selfshipper #selfship community #self ship community #nerdwhoauthorinserts #male selfshipper #lgbt selfship

[dgcatanisiri]

Foster Addison gets a bad rap for her bad decisions and abrasive attitude, but... I COMPLETELY understand why she's got that attitude, why she's making those choices.

I mean, first of all, she has to deal with Tann, an accountant who was, what, the EIGHTH link down the chain of command, basically trying to run the Nexus as his own private kingdom, that he's going around as if the other administrators should see him as their leader, when the structure of matters has him as a board member, that it's not his say-so that moves things but a collective agreement. That's gonna cause friction no matter how you look at it.

Then we move in to the fact that she's the head of Colonial Affairs, and for the year since she came out of cryo, there's been no way to establish the colonies - the Golden Worlds are a bust, the one that their people could reach, which is a radioactive waste, had the two sites fail, they're also dealing with the kett, who see all non-kett life as something to dispose of (until and unless they can harvest them and make them into kett as well, which *shudder*).

Then, of course, there's the Uprising, which depleted the reserves they had in terms of people as well - everyone who left the Nexus had a role to play in the Initiative, and now the people who were needed to serve these functions is either dead or exiled. Even acknowledging that the Initiative surely planned some margin for error in their assemblage, that's still a logistical headache.

When the Hyperion arrives, delayed by at least a year, to the point that people on the Nexus thought that the arks had been lost completely, Alec Ryder, the guy who sold a lot of the people in the Initiative on the project, is dead, and he named as his replacement not the trained second, the expected successor, in Cora, but his own kid, a decision that surely from her point of view looks like an act of sheer nepotism, that Alec was turning the position into some kind of hereditary thing, since Player Character Ryder is a smartass kid who's got like minimal credentials for the role - I repeat, they were not even in the line of succession for the role of Pathfinder, and Alec just gives them the position, and WE the audience also know that he did that at least partially because he was protecting Ellen Ryder's secret survival, there was no other reason for him to give Ryder the role of Pathfinder but those locks, he could have just given Ryder his helmet and passed the Pathfinder codes to Cora.

So her being antagonistic to Ryder, her hiring the Three Sabers, her overlooking Spender's misdeeds... All of this has to do with the avalanche of problems she's dealing with as she has a seat at the table for the Nexus turning into the largest mausoleum of Milky Way species, as the sleepers in cryo are left to suffer freezer burn and face the same hard calculus question as Vigil did with the prothean scientists and who to let die so others can live, because they can't come out of the pods until there's a legitimate source of food and supply (and we have it as a running gag that Suvi is struggling with Heleus plants being edible - at this point, their only source of food is what came with them and can be grown by them).

Her decisions are about what helps in the short term, because she can't depend on there being long term strategies - she doesn't even know if any of them will be around to suffer the long term consequences, because the game begins with the Initiative at a point where they could all die the next day. If Spender resolves issues before they hit her desk, that gives her time to focus on the bigger stuff. If the Three Sabers offer an alternative to the Pathfinder, there's something being done if and when the reckless kid gets themselves killed (and, let's face it, given just what Ryder has to do in the plot, there was every likelihood they WOULD have gotten killed). If Ryder finds her cold and off-putting and harsh, well, she's not there to make friends, she's there to keep people alive - as Ryder accomplishes things over time, she DOES noticeably thaw around them, as they prove that they're actually up to the task and getting results.

Honestly, I LIKE Addison, because she's got that progression, of starting out in a position where she can't even bring herself to hope that Ryder will be a solution to the problems to actually seeing those solutions come. She messes up, and badly... But I can't imagine anyone in the position she is in throughout the game - not the job she fills but the choices she's had to make - WOULDN'T.

#dg plays mass effect #foster addison #mass effect andromeda

[baroquepopcorn]

A monologue on the qualia pataphysics of sandwiches

What is a sandwich?

We've all had those moments when we've wondered what makes something a particular object. What is a chair? Can anything be a chair? If I sit on your face, does that temporarily transfer the qualia of chairness to you? If so, then what is the fundamental essence of chairness that lingers within objects we consider chairs when we are no longer sitting on them? If you say the word chair a lot, eventually it loses all meaning.

Sandwich physics are even more interesting. What defines a sandwich? Is a sub a sandwich? is a hotdog a sandwich? Is an open faced sandwich a sandwich? If so, is pizza a sandwich? are any food items with any sort of bread on them a sandwich?

I have devised a simple criterion for something being a sandwich: is it something in between two disconnected pieces of bread? If so, it is a sandwich. Thus hotdogs and subs, with their weird slotted bun, are not sandwiches, however, the second one breaks apart the bun into two seperate bread pieces, it becomes a sanwich. Pizza is not a sandwich, neither is folded pizza, but if you put two on top of eachother...

A stuffed bun or a dumpling is not a sandwich, unless you carefully cut around the edges and are left with two pieces of dough sandiwiching the filling.

But wait! what defines a bread? Does it need to be leavened? are crackers bread? is cake bread? is a singular crumb bread? If we define bread as any substance consisting of dough (which is a paste made of ground up seed powder and water) that is cooked and made into a solid substance (because gruel is not bread), then yes, all are bread. So then, a cake slice with a filling layer is a sandwich, so is a jelly donut if it is cut in two, so is a tiny piece of cheese between two crackers, and so is something in between two crumbs. But what is the possible smallest unit of something that can be considered bread? Maybe a single molecule of polysaccharide originating from a plant seed, connected to a single molecule of water, and then heated until that water evaporates.

Can that something in between a sandwich be non-edible? I'd say so, the colloquial use justifies it, thus those two guys who put bread on the poles of the earth indeed made it a sandwich. Gordon Ramsey did indeed create an idiot sandwich. If it can be anything, than a loaf of sliced bread is a bread sandwich, so are three pieces of bread on top of eachother, But then since there are particles in between everything, two slices of bread have things like air and crumbs in between them. Is air a valid sandwich filling? I mean if you hold a slice of bread over another, you could joke that you've made an air sandwich, that seems valid. But does size matter? how large and far apart can the fillings be for something to still be a sandwich? the earth sandwich example makes me think there is no limit, and the bread can be any size compared to the filling.

So if you sit on a crumb, and you have a crumb on you, you're a sandwich. Which brings us to the final conclusion: because bread exists in the world, most things could be part of enormous air-and-random-stuff sandwiches, created whenever there are things in between pieces of bread. If you put a loaf of bread on the ground, and then if some guy walks by with a baguette a mile away, and you're in between those two bread pieces, you are part of a mile-long air and you and other random stuff sandwich.

But there is an issue I am ignoring. A topological problem. If you put a piece of bread inside of a box, and then put that box over another piece of bread, is that a sandwich? We've already established that the bread must be in two pieces for something to be a sandwich, but what about a piece of bread enclosed in something and then placed on another piece of bread. Well in order to be part of a sandwich, the object must be in between the two bread pieces, at least partially. The wall of the object is indeed in between two pieces of bread, but that wall is part of a continous object enclosing one of the slices. Overhang is ok, but complete surrounding of a bread slice is an ambigous situation. And what if you have a hollow sphere with a part inside it that juts out, and you put two slices of bread inside the sphere and around the jutting segment? Any thoughts?

Fundamentally, humans describe objects in a qualitative, ambigous way that often doesn't have much bearing on the actual scietific bones of the object. What makes something a sandwich or a chair is ultimately a social construct. a few, several, a pile, and a heap are all measurements that are not connected to specific volumes or numbers, but are arbtirarily decided on based on the object measured, where they start and stop qualifying as such is ambigous, such is the nature of all man-made destinctions. Thank you for coming to my ted talk, and be sure to catch my next speech: Homestuck and the geometric vocabulary of romance --- a study of speculative fictioxenosociopsychology

#shower thoughts #sandwich

[caspia-writes]

🥧?

Hello, mysterious anon! Thanks for the ask!

🥧—let’s talk about food in your wip. are there any special recipes or traditional meals? do any of your OCs cook or bake?

(I apologize in advance for the length of this reply because the answer to both of these is yes, and I’m in the mood to ramble excessively.)

First: there are most certainly special recipes and traditional meals in Großsachsen.

For example, there's the traditional Äggnguhchn (Eckelkuchen) in Sachsen, rooted in ancient pagan belief that eating acorns would imbue a person with the hardiness and longevity of the sacred oak tree. Originally, this was taken to mean that the person had to swallow an entire acorn whole, but eventually people began baking cakes using acorn flour, decorating it with a few acorn shells, and eating that instead.

Following the Preußisch colonization of the Ostarktis, the region quickly became infamous for the consumption of raw (or at most blue rare) meat, on account of the lack of vegetation in the northernmost regions, natural refrigeration provided by the local climate for most of the year, and the necessity of preserving fuel and heat. Although it is no longer strictly necessary for survival, the traditional cooking style persists to the general disgust and disdain of the rest of Großsachsen.

Other regions have traditional meals based mostly on what was historically economically feasible and locally available—Thüringen, for example, having a large variety of goat cheese and mushroom recipes, and Preußen being renowned for its numerous fish and egg recipes.

For the second part: some of my characters can be trusted in a kitchen, but not all.

While they don’t do it very often (at all), Ernst and Hans can both technically cook something if circumstances required it. Ernst is rather partial to soups, stews, or maybe a pot roast; pretty much anything where he can throw some food in a container, heat it up, and come back several hours later to something edible. Hans is more comfortable trying to fry something—eggs or fish being favorites, but if he can get it thin enough to fry, he’ll fry it.

The only male character who bakes is Johannes... yes, the now-dictator of Großsachsen. Mostly because, before he decided to go into politics instead, he thought he wanted to be a baker. These days, however, he’s usually too busy with being the purported messiah of Großsachsen to make bread loaves.

Women in Großsachsen are generally expected to be housewives upon reaching adulthood and marrying, and part of that is always learning at least the basics of cooking and baking. Still, some of them can do so considerably better than others (Sophie, for example, practices multiple times a day, every day, and has since she was old enough to be of any help in her parents’ bakery, whereas Josephine probably hasn’t cooked her own food once in close to fifteen years).

#ask game #verräter #answered asks #anon #chatter #cooking #writblr #writeblr

[assaily]

I'd love to hear about what Five would eat!

This has been such a hard ask to answer because I have so much detail to back every assertion, I could write a fucking book. I had a lot of fun thinking about this though, and there are a lot of subtopics to explore. But in the spirit of keeping things under a kip... :)

The answer to “What would Five eat?” is Literally Anything with Caloric Value. So I am going to answer the more specific question: What are Five’s comfort foods? Or: What kind of food could his sibling keep in the house to make him feel more comfortable?

From what we’ve seen him eat in the show, Five seems like the kind of person who finds comfort in the familiar. Literally the first thing he fuels himself on is a fluffernutter, something he loved as a child. A fluffernutter sandwich is not just a nostalgia trip, either, when taken into consideration.

Five very obviously operates on carbs, that’s his main source of fuel (not the caffeine). Bread and marshmallows are all sugar. Peanut butter is a superfood, it has all the important things - fat, carbs, and protein with the plus of being easy to digest. Peanut paste is commonly used to treat severe acute malnutrition. Peanut butter being a common snack for Five would absolutely track, regardless of the fact that it’s obviously something he would actually like if he had even a remotely normal relationship to food. It was likely one of the first things he was given to eat when the Commission picked him up, and by far one of the best tasting things.

That’s another thing that should be taken into consideration. Five went the vast majority of his life without basic spices. Not even table salt. I can't imagine Five needs a lot for something to be very savory or tasty to him. Which also means it wouldn’t take much for something to be too rich, either. He probably can’t do spice anymore, or at least will really have to work himself up to it.

The real exception to this is sweet stuff. Five has a sweet tooth a mile wide even when he tries to deny it. It could also be partially instinctual for him to seek out foods that are fast metabolizing, or it could just be his preference for quick energy. He’s obviously got trauma around a twinkie incident, and it would be fair for him to not be able to stomach vanilla cakes or those types of desserts anymore. I like to think he’s a fresh fruits lover at heart, and while he likes his candy, he’d go for sweet fruit if given the choice. This would be a post-apocalypse discovery for him, as fruit wouldn’t be on his radar unless he could grow some. Fruit can be hard to grow though, and I really think he would stick to tubers for their ease and high yield.

The last thing is canned food. Canned food doesn’t actually last forever. It has to be stored in specific conditions, undamaged, and sheltered from the elements. The cans that do survive and are edible after a decade or two would stop tasting good. I suspect Five only lived on canned food for the first two decades at most, and had to have moved to gardening and hunting at some point once the weather cleared. The ultimate time of scarcity would be the back half of the nuclear winter, when the cans were scarce and there still wasn’t enough sunlight reaching the surface for nature to start coming back. It would be a war between Five, the scavengers (rats and vultures mainly), and whatever else managed to survive. I imagine having a supply of non-perishable foods would be a massive comfort to him.

So if his siblings were to stock a kitchen for Five: Canned foods - mostly fruits, veggies, beans, and soups. They would absolutely catch Five eating straight out of the can, utensils optional. He would eat them mostly to keep a rotation going, but his favorite would be the canned fruits.

Sweet treats - mildly sweet cookies, likely nothing vanilla or sugar flavored, tho. Chocolate, toffee, peanut butter, and maybe caramel would be winners in Five’s book. Fruit for sure, and maybe fruit flavored hard candies.

Nutrient dense foods/ easy foods - protein bars and shakes, oatmeal (likely nostalgic as well, since they apparently ate it a lot as children), lightly salted trail mixes, rice and bread. Basic easy things that Five will seek out on his own.

Opinions on meat: I doubt Five would eat very much red meat, likely too rich for him. Poultry and fish would be the only meats he’d eat, and are really the only meats he could have had access to in the apocalypse.

Dairy: At a minimum. His teenage body wouldn’t likely be lactose intolerant but his older body sure as shit would have been. Ice cream would be the one thing he indulges in for that.

Oh, and Five absolutely has basic cooking skills. Knowing how long to heat something so it won’t give you a parasite is an important skill to have, regardless of if you're cooking on a stove or over a fire. He can’t bake, or do anything fancy, but he can make a decent stew if asked.

#thank you for the ask! #the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #this one took me a while and i'm sorry #had to take a few days to organize my thoughts #it was hard for me to stay away from all the tangents i could have gone on #like all the minutia of my theory on canned food as comfort food #and apocalypse theories #so many apocalypse theories #food #food discussion

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,778 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: None really! A/N: This is the final part of a miniseries! Find the previous part on the Masterlist!

Your name: submit What is this?

The next morning, Daryl was still sitting watch outside the barn as he had promised you when some movement up at the farmhouse caught his eye. He straightened up when he saw it was you stepping onto the porch. He immediately started heading over and met you at the steps. The bruising on your arm from your boyfriend’s hand and fingers and on your face from where he had hit you had darkened overnight and his stomach twisted and clenched with anger. The split in your bottom lip glared out against the delicate pink around it, a dark crimson slice.

“Hey. Are ya alright?” His blue eyes were narrowed in concern.

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” You glanced over at the makeshift campsite. It was quiet and still. “Everyone still sleeping?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Ya sure ya should be up and about? Ya got a concussion.”

“I’m okay.” You gave him a long look and Daryl waited. He could sense you were on the edge of saying something. You tried to gulp down the nerves. “Would you—will you take me to go talk to him?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Ya dun owe him anythin’,” he drawled. The gravel was heavier in his voice than usual.

Daryl nudged his nose up at you in a nod. He turned to lead the way but you called him back.

“Daryl—” There was worry and anxiety etched in your brow and somehow the archer knew what you were trying to ask.

“I won’t leave ya alone with him. Don’t worry.”

You gulped, grateful that he understood implicitly, immediately. You went down the steps and fell into stride beside him.

“How’d ya sleep? Ya get some rest?” he asked, casting a sideways glance in your direction. It almost physically hurt him when his eyes hitched on your injuries.

You nodded. “A little. Except Hershel had someone coming in to wake me up every hour or so… I guess that’s to make sure I wasn’t going into a coma after the—the concussion…”

Daryl felt that familiar burn of rage in his chest. “Is it that serious?” he asked, stopping dead. “Maybe ya really shouldn’t be up. We should get ya—”

“I’m fine. I think he was just being cautious,” you countered.

Daryl gulped under the fixed gaze of your eyes but ultimately nodded and started toward the barn again.

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked kindly, concern in your tone.

Daryl shrugged vaguely. “Nah. But s’alright. Wanted to make sure he was locked up and couldn’t get to ya. Once the others are up, I’ll catch a few hours.”

You gave him a grateful smile, feeling your cheeks warm a little with a blush. “Thanks for that.” He only nodded.

Finally, you both arrived at the barn and Daryl unlocked the door and paused with his hand on the latch. “Ya sure?” You looked a little afraid, but you nodded. He swung the door open and followed you inside. He passed in front of you as you crossed the space to a huddled figure leaning partially up against the opposite wall, half-slumped over toward the dirt floor. Daryl rushed up to him and kicked the bottom of his boot hard. “Wake up, dumbass!” he growled.

He stirred and lifted his head. You could see that his face was bloody and bruised, with one eye completely swollen shut, the result of Daryl’s fists the day before. You felt sick when he noticed you were there, his whole body language changed. His whole demeanor changed, but you knew it was just all an act.

“Oh, baby. Babe, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you! I just got so jealous. Please, I just—I love you so much!” He was immediately pleading. Your heart started to race and the sick feeling in your stomach only increased.

Daryl was immediately on him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and thrusting him hard against the wall. “Shut the fuck up! I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word out of ya. Ya ain’t even deserve to look at her, but she’s got some things she wants to say, and you’re gonna listen. Got it?” Your boyfriend averted his eyes and said nothing, and Daryl released his hold on him. Your ex-boyfriend’s eyes drifted back to you. They were cold, hard.

Daryl stood just behind you, watching the scene carefully for anything going the slightest millimeter wrong.

“They asked me what to do with you. You’re gonna be gone, but whether that’s away from here or dead is mostly up to me.” You paused and gulped again at the tightness in your throat. “But I think a quick and easy death is just too good for you. Besides, I don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands, even yours. So, I’m gonna tell Rick to take you way out, alone, into the middle of nowhere and just leave you. So maybe you’ll feel a modicum of the fear you put me through every day. You’ll experience how alone I felt, how isolated. How helpless. How robbed of every part of me that mattered. And then the walkers can have you. Or maybe you’ll meet someone just like yourself and get a taste of your own medicine.” Your bottom lip was quivering a little but you were determined to get through this. “And there’s something else you should know. Right now, this is the last time I will ever think about you. But you? You’ll think about me every day. You’ll think about what you did. But I don’t care about you anymore. It’ll be like you never existed.”

You stared at him once more for a long moment and then turned to look at Daryl. He nudged his nose up at you in a nod and you headed for the door, leaving behind the man you had once loved who you now didn’t recognize. Daryl latched and locked up the barn and you waited for him, your arms across yourself again, subconscious armor. He was anxiously chewing his bottom lip when he turned around and caught your striking eyes. “Ya did good in there. Ya feel better? After havin’ your say?”

Your expression turned a little sad. “Maybe a tiny bit. But mostly no. Besides, it was a lie. He’ll haunt me for a while. But it’ll be different. He won’t have control over me anymore. And I won’t live every day like I’m walking on eggshells.” You studied Daryl’s face for a moment and felt a warmth growing in your chest. “Thank you, Daryl. For everything.”

He shook his head. “S’nothin’.”

Your lips curved in a small smile and Daryl watched with surprise as you came close to him and stretched yourself up on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Setting your heels back down, your eyes flickered between his, memorizing the shades of blue in them. His expression was a little impassive, but you didn’t mind. You smiled up at him again. “Get some sleep,” you said, gently touching his arm, before turning and heading away back up to the farmhouse. The trail of warmth and slight tingling, like the remnants of a static charge, were still strong on his skin even as your figure faded away.

Daryl’s heart was hammering in his chest still as he laid down on his cot in his tent, chasing sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Two Months Later “Hey!” Daryl jumped up from the log he was seated on beside his small fire circle as he saw you starting to cross the green space toward the tree line. You paused and turned at the sound of his voice and the smile you gave him sent a rush of heat to his chest which quickly poured into his face. You just brightened when you smiled and he found it damn near irresistible. “Where the hell ya think you’re going?” he said, jest plain in his voice as he jogged over to you.

You adjusted the strap of your pack on your shoulder and rested the other hand on the hilt of your knife, which was sheathed at your hip. “Gonna go see what I can forage. If I have to listen to Rick and Shane bickering anymore today, I’m going to lose my mind,” you joked.

“Yer just gonna go off out there? By yerself?” he asked you, his brow drawing down low over his blue eyes. “Real nice. Where the hell is my invite?”

You laughed jovially, and Daryl felt another jolt to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. He loved the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, and how now you gave into it with your whole being. You were just like that, despite everything you had been through and despite the state of the world, you just gave into it. It gave Daryl hope. You straightened up and gave him a half-smile. “Well, where’s your crossbow? Come on. How are you gonna keep me safe from walkers without it?”

Daryl smiled back at you, just a small one like he always did, but it still filled you up every time you saw it. He lifted his chin in a nod. “Be right back,” he drawled. You were happy to wait for him while he grabbed his gear and returned to your side.

You fell into stride beside each other at an easy pace and headed toward the tree line. “So, Rick and Shane were goin’ at it again, huh?” Daryl asked. “What was it this time?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Nothing. That’s the thing… Shane is just—I don’t know. He takes any excuse he can to pick an argument with Rick. He’s just—I don’t know…” you trailed off. “He makes me uncomfortable,” you said.

Daryl glanced over at you, his face darkening with a shadow of concern. “He do somethin’?” He felt a swell of protective fire in his chest.

You met his blue eyes and shook your head. “No. No, nothing. I just mean he seems… unstable,” you said. You had reached the edge of the woods now and you pulled a small bag out of the side pocket of your pack and unsnapped the loop over your knife hilt. You scanned the ground for edible plants and mushrooms.

“Ya, cuz he is,” Daryl agreed, glancing around to check for any sign of walkers. “I’ve known plenty of assholes like him before… He just seems to be better at foolin’ people about what he really is. At least he was. Promise me somethin’, though?” You looked up at the archer with a quizzical expression. “If he does anything to ya, tries anything ya don’t like—Hell, him or anyone else, ya tell me, alright?”

You suddenly lost your courage to hold his eyes in the wake of his protectiveness and you felt your cheeks burn a little with a blush. You averted your eyes back toward the ground but nodded. “What would I do without you, Daryl?”

He shrugged and hummed a vague and somewhat dismissive noise, even while he felt that fluttering between his lungs he always associated only with you.

You passed the time easily beside Daryl, and managed to find some wild mushrooms and berries that would add some much-needed variety and nutrition to everyone’s diet. You had just been thinking that it was probably time to head back when Daryl suddenly straightened up and looked skyward.

“We better get goin’,” he said. “S’gonna storm.”

No sooner had he spoken those words than the light seemed to shift and darken. You nodded. “Yeah. Those clouds don’t exactly look friendly.” You shoved the bag you had been collecting berries in back into your pack. “Let’s go.”

Daryl led the way quickly through the underbrush as thunder rolled in the distance. You both emerged from the tree line into the pasture just as lightening cracked and the sky opened up and unleashed a torrent of rain. You were both soaked in an instant and you let out a gasp of surprise at the coldness of the rain. Glancing over at Daryl, who was squinting at you through the downpour, you couldn’t help laughing at the situation as you tried to fend off shivers as the freezing rainwater rolled down your skin.

“C’mon! My tent is closest!” he yelled over the rain. You nodded and took off with him through the grey veil, running with abandon the way you had when you were a child trying to get home before dark. Your socks squished inside your inundated boots as they pounded the saturated ground. Your jeans were heavy with moisture and you felt your clothing and hair clinging to you as you moved.

When you arrived at Daryl’s campsite, he hastily unzipped his tent and held the cloth door open for you to pass inside first. You rushed in but tried to corral yourself in the middle of the tent so you wouldn’t shed rainwater all over his space. “Oh my God,” you said with a laugh, looking over at him as he zipped the door closed. “Soaked through and through.” He set his crossbow down at the edge of the tent and you gulped as you watched water droplets roll down from his wet hair and descend over his collarbone and strong arms. You tried your hardest to prevent a shiver from wracking through you, but to no avail. You were soaked and the autumn rain had been stinging with cold.

Daryl was trying his hardest to avoid looking at how your wet clothes were clinging to the curves and angles of your body and he was grateful for a distraction when he saw you shiver. He went to his duffel bag and pulled out a clean towel.

“Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully and trying to wring the water from your hair with it before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Not sure how much good it will do,” you said, laughing as you looked down at your sodden clothing and boots.

“Guess I shoulda pulled us outta there a little sooner,” he drawled, still avoiding looking at you because every time he did he felt like his brain started to go fuzzy and the warmth kindling in his chest was almost overwhelming.

It suddenly struck you how familiar this felt, but at the same time how different. “Not the first time I’ve hidden from the rain in here,” you said suddenly, not even really meaning to speak the thought aloud.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to your face. That night had been on his mind since the moment the first raindrop hit him. He anxiously chewed his bottom lip and nodded.

The atmosphere between you in the small space, with the rain hammering on the outside of the tent, was sudden charged and heavy.

“But it feels different this time,” you said softly. “Nothing to hide from. Nowhere I’m supposed to be.”

Daryl’s blue eyes flickered between yours. “I shoulda known,” he said regretfully. “I shoulda done somethin’ about him sooner.”

You gave him a sad smile and shook your head. “That’s not on you. Any of it. You did enough.” You took a somewhat hesitant step toward him and Daryl watched as the towel slipped from around your shoulders and fell to the floor in a soft pile, forgotten in the intensity of the moment. “You do more than enough.” You studied his face, each fleck of blue in his eyes, the angles of his jaw. His shirt was clinging to his strong chest and you wanted more than anything at that moment to reach out and touch him, press your hands gently to him in the way he too deserved to be touched.

Daryl couldn’t look away from you. Your gaze, you were magnetic and he felt like he was being drawn in, pulled in. He was seconds away from tumbling into something he would be only too happy to get lost in.

But you suddenly turned and Daryl watched, puzzled, as you went to the upended box that served as a table beside his cot. You carefully moved aside a stray crossbow bolt and a wrinkled paperback and found what you were looking for; the pressed honeysuckle you had found that night, months ago, picked even longer ago before that. You laid the delicate, papery flower out on your palm before turning back to the archer.

He shifted a little anxiously as he saw what you had in your hand.

“You kept it. This whole time,” you said, glancing from the crimson bloom back up to meet his eyes, which were narrowed slightly at you as he waited to see where this was going, nervous but reeling with hopeful anticipation. “Why?” you asked simply. You were merely half a foot apart now, your palm held up flat between the two of you revealing the muted shades of green and red.

Daryl gulped down his nerves and shifted in a shrug. “Ya know why,” he said simply, his deep voice almost feeling like it was wrapping around you.

You stared back down at the flower in your hand. “It’s just a flower. It’s not—” But whatever you had been about to say was stopped by Daryl’s lips on yours. He clasped your face delicately in his hands and kissed you with an urgency that wouldn’t be ignored, couldn’t be.

At first you let out a soft noise of surprise, but Daryl’s nerves vanished as your lips gave softly beneath his and suddenly you were kissing him back eagerly. Your hands were on his sides, feeling the tensed muscles beneath his wet shirt and neither of you noticed the honeysuckle bloom floating gently to the floor as you sank into one another. You arched up onto your toes and looped your arms around his neck, pulling into him more deeply. Daryl’s hands lightly found your waist, your hips, one finally settling in the small of your back keeping you against him with gentle pressure. The world outside seemed to fall away and vanish and it was just you and him and the sound of the storm. The kiss was hungry and fervent but eventually softened and Daryl watched with disbelief as you pulled slightly away and your eyes opened, eyelashes fluttering, revealing the striking color of your irises which he was finally able to study as closely as he wanted, memorizing each hue, fleck, and ring of color. Your lips curved in a smile as you looked up at him and you were sure your cheeks were flushed, because wow. God you had wanted to do that for a long time, longer than you had admitted to yourself.

You clasped his face gently and ran your thumb along his strong jaw, subconsciously biting your bottom lip.

You felt one of his fingers lightly moving on your lower back, like he needed to feel you, really feel you to know this was real.

“Can we, uhh, do that again?” you said with a smile.

Daryl’s mouth twitched up on one side in a smile and he nudged his nose up at you. Before he could even lean in you had arched up on your toes again and pressed your lips to his. This kiss was soft and wanting and sent bolts of electricity through both of you, sending goosebumps rising on your skin that weren’t at all related to your soaked clothes.

You finally broke apart, breathless, and loved that Daryl’s arms were still around you. He seemed unwilling to let you go, and you hoped he never would. You were both all shy smiles for a moment until another shiver ran through you and Daryl felt it beneath his hands. One of his eyebrows immediately quirked down and he broke with you only long enough to collect the towel from the floor and wrap it around you again. His fingers then gently plucked the pressed honeysuckle from the canvas floor and he reached around you to replace it on his improvised nightstand. “Ya should go get some dry clothes on. Can’t have ya getting’ sick.”

Your eyes were still connected with his and you nodded vaguely. “Yeah. But I don’t want to leave,” you said quietly. Daryl chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“Ya ain’t gotta. I got plenty of dry clothes in here. C’mon,” he said, gently tapping his fingers where they were resting on your lower back. “We can both change. I’ll face this way. I won’t look. Promise.”

You smiled widely at his sweetness and nodded in agreement. The idea of cozying up in Daryl’s clothes sounded like the best thing you could imagine at that moment, wrapped in his smell, and safe and warm with him close by.

Soon you were both in dry clothes. Daryl’s eyes drank in the sight of you in his oversized shirt and gulped at the rush of heat pouring outward from his chest. He’d wanted this for so long and now that it was happening it still didn’t feel real. You went and sank down on Daryl’s cot, moving toward the back edge to make room for him, giving him an irresistible and expectant look. The archer sank down beside you, gently putting one of his arms underneath your head and draping the other over your waist, his fingertips lightly tickling your back. You both just couldn’t stop looking at the other, and the sound of the storm outside was the perfect backdrop.

You reached out and rested your palm lightly against his chest, feeling the expansion of his lungs and the steady cadence of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry it too me so long to figure this out,” you said softly.

Daryl only looked back at you with a soft expression. “Don’t be. I woulda waited as long as I had to. You’re worth it.”

You gave him a smile and a look of wonder before kissing him softly again. “So are you.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon gifs #my gifs

[everlarkficexchange]

Keeping the Peace

Writer: JHsgf82

Prompt 45: Peeta works security (peacekeeper? police?), Katniss is a protester (rebellion? BLM?) or a civilian (rebel?) or a local translator in her village. Do they know each other at all? Work together? Fight on opposite sides or meet at common ground? What threatens them? Are their feelings real? [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Rating:  T 

Author Note:  Due to lack of time (and taking on too much, lol), this will only be snippets of the fic, a sneak peek.  I do plan on continuing, though, and I’ve really enjoyed developing this and writing what I have of it.  I hope you’ll enjoy it and that you’ll continue to read it when I post the rest on A03 in the near future.  Will be alternating First Person POV, Peeta and Katniss. Edit by @mrspeetamellark​.  Thank you! 

Peeta 

“You got a girl, Peet?” Darius asks from his usual spot beside me in the mess hall.  

“No.”  I smile a little and shake my head.     

“Why not?  Every woman loves a man in uniform, right?” 

I glance down at my snow-white fatigues, then to my helmet beside me on the bench.  “Not around here, D.”  I don’t say it with bitterness, just matter-of-factly.   

Darius slaps me on the back.  “Hey, they may act like they hate us, but it’s only because we enforce the law.  They don’t like it, but they respect us for it.” 

I’m not so sure about that.  I think my good friend is a little deluded.  

I’ve been a Peacekeeper for going-on-three years now, stationed in good ole’ District 12.  I got into it to protect the people and keep them safe, and of course, to keep the peace, but more often than not, it seems like I’m just ordering them around.  Or worse.

And now, with the riots happening and the new commander, Commander Thread, in place, the district only seems to be deteriorating further.  The residents are frequently whipped in the square, for one.  I’ve never had to do it, thankfully, but I know others who have.  Even stricter rules are being enforced, tariffs and quotas on every little thing, and we’ve shut down their Hob.  The people, at least those from the Seam, have even started moving out of town, into the woods, forming their own little community of sorts.  We break them up and force them back sometimes, peacefully as we can.  

I hope to God they don’t reinstitute hangings.  

I don’t like the way things are, but I can’t leave.  I’m sworn in.  I belong to Snow and his Peacekeeper organization.  I’m literally branded.  Still, I refuse to be a piece in whatever game he’s playing.  And I’m guessing I’m still hoping I can make a difference, somehow.  

Darius talks about women a lot, wanting to fall in love, get married.  As for me, I’ve never really considered marriage.  I was always married to the job.  After the way I grew up, I was so glad to have an important job, something that mattered, but more and more, my thinking’s been changing… 

***

The first time I see her, she’s standing calf-deep in the lake.  She’s wearing a green, threadbare slip of a dress, and her long, dark hair is braided down her back.  Her skin is a flawless olive, shimmering in the sunlight.  She bends down and digs up some sort of plant growing on top of the water; it has white flowers, green leaves, and long roots with tubers hanging from it.  The bottom of her dress, her legs, and now her hands are covered in mud, but she just looks down at the plant, and she smiles.

As for me, I’m frozen, staring hard with probably the goofiest grin on my face.  She’s just so…ethereal.  I definitely need to paint her later, at least get a quick sketch down before I forget what she looks like.  Nah, I’ll never forget.  She’s too unique.  Too…mesmerizing.  

Her ears seem to prick, and she catches sight of me.  And although it’s hard to tell from this distance, I swear her eyes are silver.  Stupid and enraptured as I am, I wave.  She merely tugs up the strap of her dress, which has slipped a little, and stares at me.  

My god, she’s stunning.  

Who is she?  This silver-eyed, braided vision before me.  Is she real, or some kind of earth goddess?  Hell, I might consider marriage, if I could be married to her. 

Wait, what am I saying?  She’s a local.  Most likely a Seam girl.  We’re from two different worlds; it’d never work.  Mainly because she probably hates my guts.       

***

A couple weeks later, there’s a ruckus just outside of town that I’m called to, a small dispute of sorts.  When I get there, three of our guys are surrounding a local man and…the girl from the lake!  I rush over. 

“What’s going on?” I ask.  

Right away, I’m told by my superior officer to fall in line.  Darius is there, too.  He quietly explains the situation while we look on from a few feet away.  

“She’s been hoarding goat’s milk rather than turning in her quota!” exclaims the man, spitting a little when he says it.  He must have been the one who turned her in.  

For crying out loud.  I groan.  All this over a little goat’s milk.  

“You’re just hoping they take Lady away from us, so you can have her back free of charge!” the girl from the lake growls.  

I don’t know what comes over me, but all of a sudden, I’m stepping up to stand between the girl and her goat and the rest of the men. 

“Let the girl keep her goat,” I demand.  

“Peeta, what are you doing?” asks Darius, concerned.  

“Just…go on, D.  I got this.” 

“Look, there’s no use crying over spilled goat’s milk.”  I joke. Darius turns to me, and I can tell the face he’s making beneath his helmet.  

“What the hell are you babbling about?” my superior officer snarls.   

I don’t even know.  Really I’m just trying to distract him and get him to forget about the girl and let her go.  I’ll persuade my superior, and the local man, because that’s what I’m good at.

But that doesn’t happen.  Things get out of hand when the girl tries to sneak off with her goat while we’re talking, and all but Darius and me point guns at her.  I lose my cool and shove the two guns away from her.  “Hey!  Back off!" 

… 

***

“Where’s Lady?” the girl from the lake demands. 

“Who?”

“The goat.  My goat, dammit!” She starts rapidly firing off words in a native tongue, probably cursing me out.  “She’s my sister’s goat!  She was a gift; she’s important, and I need her!” 

“Okay, okay, calm down.  I saved the goat.  Sent it back to the village with my most trusted friend.” 

“Oh.  Okay.  Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to escort you back home.” 

She eyes me skeptically. 

“I haven’t been ordered to or anything.  It’s just, you took quite a blow, and I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

She studies me a moment; then, apparently, she decides she believes me because she nods.

I smile.  “So, you’ll allow it?” 

“I’ll allow it." 

***

I wake up in a cave, not knowing how I came to be here.  All I remember is the riot getting out of hand, me taking off my helmet and something bashing me in the back of the head, and…the girl!

I turn to my right with a groan, and I see her beside me. 

I try to sit up, but she tells me to lie back down.  It’s just as well, for the entire cave is spinning.  She takes a cloth out of a small, brown bowl of water, rings it out, and places it on my forehead, partially obscuring my eyes.  I move it so I can see her better.  

I moan a little when the pain hits.  

“Shh, you’re alright. Just a nasty gash.  But you’ll live.  I’m sorry that I’m not a healer, but my mother is, and I’ve picked up a thing or two.” 

“You.  What’s your name?” I need to know.  

“Katniss.” 

“Oh.  Pretty name.  What does it mean?” 

She seems amused by this, probably thinks I’m off my head from delirium. 

“It’s a plant.  An edible water plant with white flowers and tubers.” 

“Oh, like the ones you dug up from the lake that one time?” 

Shit.  Now she knows it was me watching her.  

“Yeah, like those ones.”  Her pretty lips upturn slightly.  

I study her a moment.  “Uh, so I assume you knew I was watching you the whole time.” 

“Yeah, I knew.  I have…heightened senses, let’s just say.” 

I nod.  “And how did you know it was me back there?" 

“I saw your tattoo,” she replies plainly, “and your face.” 

“You know about my tattoo?”  I quirk a brow.  

“Yeah.  It means you’re a Peacekeeper, right?”   

I nod. 

"Why are you doing this, then?” I murmur.  

She presses her lips into a thin smile and says, “Because you helped me once.” 

***

“If you’re gonna blend in and be one of us, Peeta, you have to pass the initiation,” says Katniss.   

“Oh yeah?”  I cock my head to the side.  At this point, I’m ready for anything.  “And what’s that?” 

She grins.  “Milk Lady.” 

Except that. 

Katniss is screwing with me, surely.  She wants me to milk a goat?  No way.  I can’t milk a goat.  And yet, I also can’t resist those eyes or that sexy little smirk-smile of hers, so I poke out my chest and clap my hands together.  “Alright, lead the way.” 

“Really?”

"Absolutely. Lady is practically famous.  I’m ready to get up close and personal with her.” 

Katniss laughs so hard she snorts.  “Um, I think maybe you’re not quite healed from that head injury.” She raises her hand to touch the spot, stopping just short.  I catch her wrist and place it on the side of my face, and I hear her breath hitch. 

“I’m fine, Katniss.  But thank you for being concerned about me.” 

#JHsgf82 #567inpanem #prompt 45 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[chorochororin]

Ah yes, Shanghai.

In regards to the ML Shanghai specials, I will not expecting Miraculous’s next Special to be like a ‘delicious meal’ (general, well created and plotted movie) that I will watch it multiple times, but at least it has to be edible. 

I was wrong. 

SPOILERS FOR THE PEOPLE. 

Now there are two problems raise for me and most audiences as well, notable A. representation, and B. (previewed plot)

Exhibit A: Asian Representation. 

I have the impressions that Shanghai will reveal the beauty of culture, art, history, and people of China like what they did in ML New York (ironically). And at the same line, due to the formulated plot of ML New York and how ML staffs likes to orderly mess things up, the ‘beauty’ of it will come with many mess and too much flaws regarding characters and settings. I was partially correct in my second thought. 

What I thought that Shanghai was going to explore to the audiences Chinese origin for our part-or-whole? Chinese characters, especially Marinette, since she is a Chinese-French protagonist, and the prominent deuteragonist, Fei, which I am more excited more. 

As a member of the Asian community, I was thrilled to see what the ML staff has their views on a Chinese woman who’s both strong as a citizen and a hero? That is...played on stereotypes but I’m sure that it’s edible (meaning the bare minimum)-

Yep, that’s her, Fei the Lady Dragon has appeared.

You know, I could forgive Uncanny Valley in the NY special for her transformation, reasons that I cannot fully represent the Black community about the issue about her, and I figured that white tin for her transformation was the usual material that was use for AIs in various commercials and technological photos, so I believe it is not necessarily whitewashing and it is just a material that human will probably stabilize it in the future to unload less stress (please correct me if I am wrong.) 

But this?! She’s white as a sheet, more actually. 

She’s whiter than Marinette! And that’s saying a lot. 

Keep in mind this is a result from a bunch of White people, sitting in a room, probably reading white-written Chinese books instead of observing actual Chinese people, and thought ‘hey! Let’s give her blond to match the color of red! As in good luck! And dragon!’ 

You know that this wasn’t really tolerable in Asian representation in media. The fact that she was blond during transformation as if the blond figure will be the eventual ending form when people idolize her in that blond form. Not too mention that in the trailers alone, we can see her doing some Asian Martial Arts and appeared quite skillful and strong, not sure if it was a common stereotypes for Asians (Kagami); and who knows this stereotype would tie in to her Dragon form as an implied ‘Dragon Lady’ stereotype (a stereotype of certain East Asian and occasionally South Asian and or Southeast Asian women as strong, deceitful, domineering, mysterious, and often sexually alluring,), you could’ve gone for a Giant Panda for her since it is also the National Animal for China, that would have been cute. Speaking of Dragons, there was once a post said that almost all Asians that are transformable heroes (sans Kim) are associated to dragons and all of them are woman? 

Maybe I have gone a bit too critical here, let us continue. 

Exhibit B: Plot. 

Remember some of us are salty because the New York came and that we see that the only reason Adrien could go was Marinette and vice versa? That the movie was pushing the ship not the story? Turns out it is also the same for Shanghai. 

Now a handful of officially-verified accounts (associated with ML staffs, VAs, and other officials) that has posted leaks about it, I’ll link you one right here:

https://twitter.com/ladyofacat/status/1372994794759278599

The ones I saw were on Instagram and this is on Twitter. 

Basically, the reason why Shanghai existed, not because what we were expecting about Marinette’s and Fei’s Chinese roots and origins at all, not because of introducing the beautiful culture and people of China. 

But Adrien was there, and Marinette just wanted to grab Adrien’s attention. 

Now first question: Why the fuck is Adrien there? This one special where there is a part of Marinette that she could be her own story, why is Adrien there? Secondly, why does every time that we were so close to have just once, just once about Marinette and only her, she would just take advantage on it because Adrien. 

This is really horrifying. By taking advantage of one’s parents, trust and money, to go far far away, highly implied, mostly alone to a land for one of your parents, hopefully to learn, only stalk your crush is insane. Even though Marinette was supposed to be the more prominent one in the Special, it seems that the writers don’t have a better idea centering her except if it revolves Adrien. 

Is this what the ML writers thinks? Are they actually okay in worsening our strong-willed and caring girl to the person that cannot live without her crush. Is this what the writers wanted to project? I mean, it is likely that she will learn something about her culture at the end since they still wanted to apply a heartful message to the show, but with her now intention to go and Adrien’s arrival to Shanghai, this is not going to be good. 

So between whitewashing representations and poorly written stories to push the ships, I will still watch the show, but even without the spoilers, the ML Shanghai Special would be too predictable now, badly so. 

#ml salt #ml shanghai #marinette deserves better #ml #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng

[theonlygamergost]

Fd au prompt: it's Phil's bday and the bois are planning something... interesting. Can't say it doesn't end with egg yolks on the ceiling, but at least they tried.

Haha Techno is a god at baking sweets while Tommy and Wilbur suck is an idea I’ve had for forever and now it goes BRRRRR-

Il’l be honest, I don’t like how it turned out THAT much, but I still hope you guys enjoy it.

“Eggs?” Tommy yelled “CHECK!”

“Flour?” Wilbur didn’t yell but, “Check!”

“And uhh… Milk… cocoa powder… yeast…” Techno double-checked his mental list while pointing at the ingredients on the counter, Tommy was shaking with energy next to him, ready to start preparing Phil’s birthday cake.

“And water, ok uh… we should have almost everything, alright let’s get started!”... this wasn’t gonna end well...

~~

Wilbur poured the milk and it was time to mix, “Ok so…” Techno was about to take the whisk when- “I’M USING THE ELECTRIC WHISK!” Tommy grabbed the tool, “WAIT NO-” the pink-haired boy grabbed the other end, so they started arguing over it, “Come on Technoblade, I know you’re the good one at baking here but let him do something” he grabbed the whisk out of their hands, “Wilbur you don’t understand- if you aren’t careful with it you can-” but as Techno was warning his bigger brother, Tommy turned on the electric whisker, covering of flour the entire counter plus themselves.

Silence fell until…

“I swear to god…” Techno whispered as the other two started laughing loudly, booping each other’s nose to make a blank spot in their flour-covered faces.

~~

Closing the oven quickly to avoid more heat escaping it, Wilbur sighed and Techno leaned back on the counter, Tommy kneeled down and simply stared at the cake, “And done!” the pink-haired boy hit the timer, “Now we gotta wait for fifty minutes, ohhh boy… we’re half-way there…” at the news, the older brother disappeared into his room and Techno collapsed on the couch, Tommy stared at the cake for a bit longer.

“And then what?” he asked without removing his attention from inside the oven, “We poke it with a chopstick, if it isn’t humid, we pass onto adding the frosting” the boy on the couch reached out to grab his book, pushing a pillow underneath his head to rest on it, “If it’s still humid, we make it cook for another five minutes and repeat the process until it’s cooked” the blondie hummed, finally getting up and walking towards the couch, grabbing his phone on the way there and flopping next to his brother, Wilbur came back into the living room with his laptop and schoolwork, making a little clean space on the counter to place everything down without the risk of flour getting attached to anything.

~~~~~~~~~

“Leave it for three minutes” Techno had said, “It should be enough” he said…

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Tommy looked down, no, no he didn’t.

After they did the “chopstick test”, Techno had decided to let it sit in the oven for a little more, just for it to get perfectly cooked, and Tommy was nominated to keep an eye on the cake while Will studied and Techno went to the bathroom. It was an easy task, but staring at a cake wasn’t as fun as texting Tubbo and…

Now the cake resided in front of them, the black of the burnt parts camouflaged with the already dark colour of the cake, but the smell of burnt chocolate reassured Tommy of his mistake, the cake had been partially burnt.

“it’s still savable, plus the frosting will hide the colour” Wilbur tried to cheer both the perfectionist and the bummed down gremlin, “... won’t hide the taste though…” to no avail. “Oh come on! It’s still edible! I’m not about to throw it away! Phil will appreciate the though either way” pointing out the facts made Tommy feel a little better, Techno simply grunted and moved along, “Ok so… I need the electric whisker, Tommy please wash it for me” the young boy nodded and opened the sink, “And… ugh how do you even make frosting again…” he took his phone into his hands as a voice made them all jump, their gazes snapped to the front door, “Three cups of powdered sugar, one-third of softened butter, vanilla and two tablespoons of milk”.

Phil had entered the front door and listed the ingredients casually, “Why do you need to make frosting anyway- oh…” he slipped his shoes off and realized the situation upon seeing the cake on the counter and his brothers frozen in place, “W-weren’t you supposed to arrive at half-past seven?” Wilbur asked, the clock on the wall indicated it was ten to seven pm.

“Uh yeah… the boss allowed me to come home early since it’s my birthday though… “ he took off his coat, sniffing the air as something caught his attention, “Why is there a burnt smell in here?” Techno groaned again at the reminder of his overcooked mistake.

Phil got closer to the counter, “So you need to frost the cake? Why bother buying one without it?” The three brothers looked at him in confusion, “What do you mean “buying”?” Techno furrowed his brows, so the older brother glanced at the sink and realized what was really happening, all of the dirty bowls… the smell of burnt chocolate..

“WAIT! You guys were trying to cook me a cake?!” He jumped a little as Wilbur nodded, “Well… “trying” is the keyword… “ the pink-haired boy pointed out. “Wait, you thought we had bought a cake and to make it look like we cooked it, we would put some frosting on it?” the blonde boy looked offended, “I mean... we did that last year…” Will pointed out, making Tommy stutter in embarrassment.

“Let’s do it like this: I’ll go to Will’s room and you guys call me when you’re done, ok? Just like nothing ever happened” the gloomy faces began shining as a second opportunity for redemption arose, Tommy pushed Phil into the room and closed the door, getting right back to baking.

The cake ended up alright, the three bakers had flour stuck in their hair for a week or so, but Phil believes that gift was the best one he had ever gotten, even if a little burnt and just a tad too sweet.  

#prompt time!!! #ask #anon ask #ph1lza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #technoblade #fd!au #fd au #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #mcyt #sleepyboisinc #sleepyboisinc fanfiction