A collection of things I like and/or am obsessed with.
| She/Her | GreyAce ππ€π€ |
| Artfol β’ Pamelo | AO3 β’ Pamelo |
My Stuff #
Robinwest is my Forever OTP. Even if I'm not posting about them, I'm still thinking about them.π§‘π
Judy stands at the window, arms crossed and a frown on her face as rain pelts the glass and trickles downβdrop purling to drop in chaotic rivulets.
Across the yard, a branch snaps in the wind, and Judyβs frown deepens.
Sheβd pulled herself out of bed two hours early this morning with one simple goal in mind: go for a run before heading to the hospital.
Instead, sheβs stood here in her bedroom watching her plans wash away in a downpour because, apparently, it doesnβt matter how many incredible advancements humanity has made (theyβve colonized another planet, for Christβs sake), accurately predicting the weather is still beyond the scope of available science.
ββPartly cloudyβ my ass,β she mutters.
The rain continues its incessant whipping, and Judy considers her second option: the treadmill. Itβs right downstairs, and the workout library can replicate the exact route she planned to take anyway. But... It just isnβt the same. She much prefers running outdoors, in fresh, open air.
Sheβs up now, though, and it seems a waste to do nothing.
Judy huffs a breath, unable to decide. Her running clothes taunt her from the closet.
βCome back to bed...β
Donβs morning-deep voice draws her from her wallowing.
She turns from the cold, uninviting morning outside, to himβonly half-covered by sheets, his exposed skin undoubtedly warm and tempting to be touchedβthen back to the window. To the lashing rain, and dangerous sway of the trees.
Frowning at the gray once more, she flicks the blinds a bit harder than necessary, shutting out the source of her irritation.
An irritation that begins to ebb the moment she sinks beneath the sheets, and into Donβs arms.
βIt wasnβt even supposed to rain today,β she sighs.
βI know...β Don pulls her closer until her back is flush against his bare chest. As warm as she knew he would be. βBut this is a nice alternative, isnβt it?β
The scratch of his stubble and softness of his lips grazing her shoulder sends a pleasant shiver up her spine. She covers his arms with her own, wrapping them tighter, nestling deeper as their legs intertwine.
βMm. Itβs okay, I guess,β she teases softly.
Don chuckles through another kiss to her neck, and slips one hand free from hers, trailing his fingertips up her arm. Ghosting from wrist to shoulder, shoulder blade to ribs, and lower, to glide under her tank top. He follows the curve of her hipbone down, and spreads his palm low on her stomach, drawing her body to meld even farther into his. As close as possible. Judyβs thighs press together at the motion, and she canβt help the soft moan that escapes her throat as she gently writhes against him, encouraging, desperate.
Like an echo to the slow, aimless drift of his lips on her nape, he caresses every chaste inch of her he can reach, setting her alight in ways only he ever could.
βDon...β
She feels his pleased smile drag up the side of her neck, and his breath flows heavily against her ear as his fingers edge downward now.
βIf you still want that exercise, Princess...β His tone is gravel and honey and sin. βIβve got a few ideas...β
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To my 25 - 35 year olds, you've reached the age where people around you are starting to give up on themselves because they think it's too late. Don't let that energy rub off on you. It's not too late.
Okay, American immigrant to the UK here to explain all the mistakes from Paul Hollywood happening here: there is one fundamentally American ingredient required to make a s'more correctly but which is basically not available anywhere at all in the UK, and that is graham crackers. A plain digestive biscuit close-ish, but still a very different beast.
From Wikipedia: A graham cracker is a sweet flavored cracker made with graham flour.
The next ingredient (which is also extremely traditionally American but slightly more variable) is typically Hershey's chocolate, but you could probably swap this out in the UK with any plain chocolate bar.
Last ingredient is big marshmallows, the kind you do the chubby bunny challenge with, like the size of your thumb and twice as thick.
A proper s'more, the most traditional possible variety, involves to graham cracker squares, two slab segments of Hershey's chocolate, and one to two marshmallows depending on your preference for filling and gooeyness. You put a slab of chocolate on one of the graham cracker squares. Your marshmallows should be toasted, usually over a campfire but if you're doing them at home over a gas stove burner is fine, but the fire part is critical. You can toast them to whatever degree you like, some people like them nice and golden brown but still kind of firm in the middle, me personally? I want that bitch to CATCH ON FIRE, I want it gooey and sticky as hell in the middle, crispy and burnt on the outside. Slap that motherfucker on your graham cracker and chocolate square, top with the other one so your marshmallow and chocolate are sandwiched together by graham cracker on the outside. You do this with your freshly toasted marshmallow because ideally it will be hot enough to start to melt the chocolate so it sticks to the marshmallow and the graham cracker and, combined with the gooey marshmallow, it keeps the whole thing together, and for that reason some people will let them sit for a hot second to let the melting process happen (especially if like me you have chocolate on BOTH graham cracker squares, not just one, because you're a sugar fiend), but if you are a young child you do not have that degree of patience and you eat that shit immediately, unmelted chocolate and all. Consume your summer camp delight like a tiny club sandwich, get gooey sticky marshmallow and chocolate all over your hands, and enjoy.
Important note: this is a kids treat. It is a traditional summer camping trip dessert. It should be something any ten year old with adult supervision and access to the ingredients can make (and make a mess of). They're called s'mores because kids always "want s'more". If you are using a blowtorch, chocolate biscuits, and merengue, you are so far beyond the bounds of s'more-hood that you have thoroughly lost the plot. If you offered Paul Hollywood's concoction to an American child and called it a s'more, they'd tell you flat out that not only is it not a s'more, it looks dumb and you didn't do it right because it's not gooey.
the point is the mess. the point is getting to make a food, at age seven, whose two basic food groups are 'sugar' and 'fire'. the other point is that this food item is so crumbly, chaotic, sticky, on fire, and prone to being dropped (outside, in the dark, while you are surrounded by other children who are also sticky and on fire) that your supervisors cannot accurately monitor how many smores you personally have consumed. the point is also that you may get away with a smore that is five blocks of chocolate and two marshmallows if you move fast and let nothing stop you.
if you haven't accidentally yet unrepentantly eaten a chunk of twigs or dirt or a bug that got enmeshed in the creative process around smore number 3st, you are too old to have any legitimate input into what makes a smore.
There's 2 other points that I think are important.
The first is that you don't pull the marshmallow off the roasting stick and somehow put it on the chocolate. Your staging area will look something like this, with the graham crackers and chocolate already set out (though not usually on the fire like this, for us it was always someone's lap or a picnic table or something)
And when your marshmallow has reached appropriate roasting perfection, you use the graham crackers to slide it off the stick.
and ideally, as a CHILD you are using a literal stick. Like you walked around and spent time looking for The Perfect Stick off the ground while the adults set up the fire. It has to be thin enough the marshmallow will fit, sturdy enough that it won't bow, long enough that you won't burn yourself roasting your marshmallow. And preferably doesn't have a lot of bark that's sloughing off, OR so much bar sloughing off you can peel it all back and get to the clean stick under it. If you're smart, you might stick the tip into the fire first to "wash" it/burn off anything that was still lingering, but. well, most kids don't.
When you bite in, the marshmallow and chocolate SHOULD ooze out all over you. If you don't kinda look like this eating it, you've probably done it wrong:
The description of the marshmallows as being either brown on the outside but still firm on the inside or fully melted but burned on the outside is missing the true art: fully molten in the middle, without the black burns. Not to say OP is wrong for preferring the burn! But there is a technique for perfection and it goes like this:
You find a spot, not above all the logs where everyone sticks their marshmallows by default, but at the heart of the fire. Ideally between a couple logs already glowing gold. Something like here:
Below the leaping flame. Near the logs. There's probably only one or two spots good enough for this on any given fire, but that's okay because everyone else is up above. They will get their marshmallows faster. They will be either firm or burned or both. That's not your goal.
Rotate the marshmallow slowly. Ideally come in at an angle so the part closest to the flame is the side, not the tip. The spot closest to the fire is the spot that turns a crispy golden brown, and you want that everywhere, on the tip and around the circle.
You keep going, slowly turning, for several minutes. Several people will rotate in and out of the higher sections, getting their fast delight. Eventually, your marshmallow will start sagging badly, risking falling. Maybe it does fall and got start over. But eventually it will be golden brown all over, and so liquid it no longer clings to the stick. It is ready, finally.
You say "who hasn't gotten one yet?" And deposit it onto their waiting graham crackers and chocolate. You've made an excellent marshmallow. It isn't for you. Get another while you're over by the bags and go back to the heart of the fire.
That's your evening. One, slow, perfect marshmallow at a time, given to whomever still wants s'more. You're making art for children to stuff into their mouths cheerfully. You're watching the movement of the fire and the heat of the logs, like you would if you were maintaining it β maybe you would be, maybe you were the one who built it β but right now that's not the goal. Let someone else put more logs on, while you take only the one stick and find the best spot for it to live.
You will, eventually, finish a marshmallow and find that nobody moves to accept it. Maybe they're all eating right now, or maybe they've gone through so many they're hesitating. Eat your masterpiece then. Enjoy it, the hardest and most perfect result from a fun and beautiful moment. Go back in for another, until you've run out of marshmallows and the fire is too low or until even you are done with s'mores, until you have made enough.
"We don't want a gooey mess" pfft even the artistry studied at the feet of my father is inherently a gooey mess. That's the whole point!
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Masculine cape made of green silk velvet with golden embroidery. Years 1651-1675.
Source: Museu Virtual de la Moda de Catalunya [Fashion Virtual Museum of Catalonia]. Kept in Museu del Disseny [Design Museum] in Barcelona, Catalonia.
sometimes you'll see a bird for the first time and when you look it up you learn that its name is the Common Dirt Bitch and its range is Everywhere and there are 400 million of them in your state alone
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I like how the Kingdom Hearts IV trailer is wall to wall frowning anime boys, then right in the middle for exactly 1.5 seconds Donald and Goofy are just randomly there. They don't even do anything.
everyone tells me that ADHD isn't an excuse for being lazy and that there are people with ADHD who have overcome their symptoms and are successful but every day I drag around an invisible dopplegΓ€nger of myself who is horrible and listless and always complains. and he is so heavy. I'm ambitious and I'm passionate but he isn't and the problem is that to get anywhere in life I have to grab him by the leg and pull him along the whole way, kicking and screaming, and sometimes it gets exhausting. sometimes he pulls me down with him. and it gets a bit difficult to explain to people why I'm lying down on the floor in pain when they can't see him.
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kaveh akbar, 'calling a wolf a wolf' // doc luben, 'love letters or suicide notes' // @/nutnoce, tumblr // 'my body's made of crushed little stars', mitski // @/ojibwa, tumblr // 'spring', mary oliver