The Nameless

this is my canon idea of what henry answered here

Art by Kajimart.

If the bikini armor trope has contributed anything of value to arts and culture, its the limitless potential for humour at the expense of the concept and clever, satirical examinations.

I particularly like how in this one, the armor underneath the illusion is extremely practical, and extremely extra.

and

This is awesome on so many levels.

(aka, please do not click play if you cannot handle very graphic body horror and blood.)

'Medicinal' does NOT mean 'good for you and safe to eat all the time'. A plant being 'medicinal' does NOT mean that eating it, without any idea of WHY and HOW it's considered medicinal, is a good idea. It is UNWISE to consume a plant that has a long history of use in a way that DOES NOT have a long history of use.

In addition to learning that a plant is edible, you need to learn how it is eaten, what part is eaten, when it's harvested, and how to harvest it sustainably and in a way that supports its continued existence (unless it's invasive). If people only eat the ripe berries as food, then don't eat unripe berries. Don't. Eat. Unripe. Berries. UNLESS! There's! precedent! For that plant!

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

I'd like to request Chad and Robert being softly affectionate with each other during an early work meeting. Forehead kisses are my kryptonite lol.

Bonus points if they're not a couple yet.

In one of SDN's conference rooms, projectors cast dispatch routes, emergency alerts, and mission assignments across the walls while the low hum of side conversations gradually grows too loud for Robert to ignore. He clears his throat, once again drawing his team's attention.

His appearance isn't doing him any favors today. He's trying very hard to look like he didn't get maybe three hours of sleep last night.

"Unless one of you is planning on ignoring direct orders again," Robert says dryly as he switches off the projections with the remote, "that wraps up this morning's briefing. Get to work."

The room instantly erupts into noise.

Chairs scrape across the floor. Someone dramatically complains about clients. Sonar tosses a crumpled twinkies wrapper toward the trash but accidentally nails Prism instead, who immediately throws it back without even looking up from her phone. Coupé is already halfway out the door, arguing with Punch Up about mission routes, while Mal and Visi trail behind them, still deep into whatever conversation has somehow kept them entertained through the entire meeting.

Flambae stays seated for another moment, quietly watching the team's dispatcher.

Robert pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh that sounds far too exhausted for eight in the morning. The dark circles beneath his eyes are slightly accentuated by the fluorescent lights overhead, and once again, half of his button-down shirt is tucked into his pants while the other half hangs loose, like he completely gave up fixing it.

When Robert finally drops heavily into the chair at the head of the table, Flambae stands.

He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't make one of his usual sarcastic comments about how terrible Robert looks.

He simply walks out.

Robert silently watches Flambae's silhouette disappear through the doorway before finally looking away.

With the first shift only just beginning, Robert reaches for the folder stacked beside him, pulling a thick pile of reports closer before clicking his pen open. He plans to finish as many as he can before heading back to his cubicle to start dispatching the day's calls.

By now, he's long since gotten used to the pace of the job and everything that comes with it. Morning briefings, though, are still one of his least favorite parts of the day. They're early, boring, bureaucratic, and they barely leave him enough time for a decent breakfast.

So when the rich, roasted smell of freshly brewed coffee suddenly tickles his nose, Robert can't help taking a slow, deep breath, almost hypnotized by the warmth of it.

"Here. Drink."

Tw: blood

plus six or seven people who just….can’t figure out what a frog paper could possibly be. (guys it’s…a scientific paper. about frogs.)

and this one

which made me laugh despairingly because i mean

“Underwent unplanned rapid disassembly” – it exploded, and it wasn’t an explosion we wanted to happen

“Lithobraking maneuver” – it stopped because it hit the goddamned ground.

“Engine-rich exhaust” – the engine bell melted or evaporated, or the engine ejected itself out the back of the rocket without having a very good reason to do so.

“Fishing orbit” – the craft is in the ocean instead of space and we didn’t mean to put it there

“Thrust was observed along an undesired vector” – the engine leaked and the rocket spun off into oblivion.

“Wearing his manager hat” – a moron who shouldn’t be an engineer (a reference to the infamous quote “take off your engineer hat and put on your manager hat” in the meeting in which the Challenger was cleared for launch)

1 clove garlic

80 grams goat cheese of your choice

1 tsp salt

1/2 cup of olive oil

2 hard boiled eggs

1 raw egg

hubris

salt-blindness

the cake

2 cups of flour

1 cup sugar

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp vanilla essence

zest of 1 lemon

juice of 2 lemons

1 raw egg

1/4 cup milk

panic

sunk cost fallacy

make aioli the usual way: blitz the eggs (raw and cooked) with garlic and cheese using a blender. slowly drizzle in the oil until an emulsion forms. taste it, realise it's way too salty, and cry.

make a cake the usual way: sift togather all the dry ingredients. in a separate bowl, mixed the wet ingredients with the garlic goat cheese aioli. mix the wet and dry togather, then pour into a baking pan. cook at 180*C for ~30 minutes until a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the center. pace around the kitchen while it cooks, pondering your life choices