#gets so gross and clumpy and thick

[housecow]

Is it worth it, the heavy cream?

lord yes… i used to have so much trouble getting it down, but figuring out a mixture that actually tastes good is game changing!! it’s an extra ~1000 calories a day, which really builds up with how easy it is to drink a lot 🤭

the last ~40lbs i’ve put on were from heavy cream :))

[wispstalk]

Got any tips on adding your own pizzazz to stuff from the cookbook? The Stormcloak blend is wonderful, great on potatoes

Oh man I bet it is good on potatoes. I'm imagining some home fries with thick cut bacon and a runny egg....god.

In general I just have accumulated a lot of knowledge on cooking technique and spices over the years, which has become intuitive at this point and therefore hard to summarize, but I can show some of my thinking with a recipe from the book:

Imperial Mushroom Sauce, But Like, Good

I've never followed this recipe bc I make mushroom brown gravy all the time and there are multiple things I do differently.

Add a chopped shallot. Alliums are the backbone of the culinary world, and I like shallots because they give it that restaurant-quality flavor. And do it in a wide shallow pan rather than a saucepan. Mushrooms cook best when left alone and given room. There shouldn't be more than one layer or it'll turn out rubbery and gross, and you wanna let em sit and crisp up for depth of flavor. At most, stir twice over 10 mins.

This recipe seems to have forgotten that it calls for vinegar. I'm reasonably sure the intention was to deglaze your pan. When the mushrooms are done, splash that vinegar in so it bubbles and scrape all those tasty little bits of charred stuff stuck to the bottom. Be conservative with your splashes and let it evaporate before the next step. That'll also add a nice acid note to the flavor, and if the end result tastes too heavy, another splash will help mitigate that.

The recipe has you make a roux without explaining what you're doing and without accounting for the way mushrooms absorb oil. I'd push the mushrooms to the edge of the pan, add 2 more tablespoons of butter to melt in the middle, then add my flour to that. Stir it around for like, 2-3 minutes until it starts to smell fragrant and nutty. Raw flour taste in sauce is very unpleasant so it's critical to let it toast and give it your full attention. It's OK if some of the ingredients get mixed in with the roux.

Then add your liquid (the cream and broth can go in together) in a slow trickle, mixing it with the roux as you pour. Once it goes from "clumpy paste" to "bubbling runny sludge" you can just dump the rest of the liquid in and give it a few minutes of quick stirring until smooth. If it doesn't fully incorporate that's OK, you can keep stirring as it thickens and it will.

Add, like, a tablespoon of the spice mix rather than a teaspoon. Almost always you can add way more spice than a recipe suggests. It's always worth experimenting carefully, but a teaspoon basically amounts to adding a pinch of each individual spice and they won't shine through.

When it starts to thicken up, and is almost ready to serve, I add chopped fresh herbs. Parsley or sage would go well with the floral notes of the spice blend, and add a little herbaceous sharpness to complement the deep umami flavors you're getting from the mushrooms, roux, and broth. And fresh herbs only need a few minutes to incorporate their flavors into the sauce.

For the last step, taste and adjust. Salt may not be necessary at all--even low-sodium packaged broth is pretty salty and it'll be more concentrated as the liquid reduced. But go HAM on the pepper. Unless you hate pepper. But a little subtle bite really takes it to the next level. Red pepper flakes are nice if you like more heat, and those can be added at the end too, just bear in mind the heat will increase the longer it sits.

Basically, the key takeaways are 1) it's worth learning the deceptively simple actions behind fancy-sounding cooking techniques and 2) don't be intimidated by spices. I made this sound so complicated bc I blathered on in detail but after you try my method once you'll find it can be done as an afterthought while you work on the main attractions.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Happy belated birthday @aka-indulgence​! I initially intended to get this out two days ago but I lost the flow a little. Luckily, it came back... hope you had a good day!

Nightmare!Sans/Reader

... It was so quiet. Dark... but you could hear something. It sounded like...

...

... Waves. Gentle ocean waves.

Something warm washed over your toes, and it made you open your eyes in surprise, looking down at your feet- water. Crystal clear water, streaming over perfect white sand... bubbles of foam popping in sparkles of light. 

You looked up, confused... and found yourself looking out onto a gorgeous sea under a clear glowing lavender and orange sunset sky. You gasped, quietly, without even realising- it was so beautiful. The ocean, mild and clean, faded from sandy yellow where you were standing to green to a brilliant turquoise, and the deeper waters were a warm pink as they reflected the sky that seemed to stretch for infinity... your lips parted, awe overtaking everything. You could see little silhouettes of seabirds wheeling in the distance... Directly above you, where the sky was lilac and purples and deep blues, a few lone faint stars were beginning to make themselves known.

... It was so beautiful. 

You inhaled through your nose and sighed, happily; fresh, salty sea air. The sound of calling gulls and water... the glow of the sunset on your skin, the lapping ocean at your feet... you closed your eyes, happy, calm...

You could just stay here forever... you should stay here forever...

...

Something was wrong.

You opened your eyes again, confused, turning around to look behind you. Some trees, tropical-looking, palms... nothing out of the ordinary. But why did you feel... wrong? It wasn’t a feeling you could put your finger on. Something was off. You stepped away from the water’s edge and began to walk up the beach, the sand pleasantly warm and soft underfoot, not loose enough to stick between your toes and not clumpy enough to feel damp and gross...

...

Something was wrong.

You had a terrible feeling in your chest, your eyes kept darting around to look at the scenery as if expecting to catch something. You couldn’t stop here, your heart was pounding- like something was out there, something awful would happen if you gave in here and rested. Maybe you were just being stupid... maybe you were just panicking... something’s wrong, something’s wrong-

... A noise.

... It was a sigh. A deep, breathy sigh; it sounded frustrated, but amused. And it wasn’t coming from behind you, or next to you, or in front of you... it was inside your head.

Someone else was inside your own mind- someone else was speaking to you, echoing in your head.

“every time.” It said, in a long-suffering tone. The voice was dark, silky... almost too soft. Like he was patronising you. “i’m getting tired of this, darling.”

... You froze.

Not willingly. Your feet sank into the sand the moment you stopped, and suddenly it was as hard as concrete- you let out a little frightened sound and tried to pull your legs, with no luck whatsoever. What the hell is going on!? You couldn’t think straight, your head was fuzzy, like someone had thrown a woollen blanket over your mind- over your ability to process what was going on. You were confused, nonplussed, things that should be making sense just weren’t connecting.

“nothing’s ever enough...” It whispered.

The landscape began to cycle, warp, stretch around where your feet were locked in place. You desperately wanted to stagger back... An empty roof restaurant overlooking a glowing city, you barely had a moment to appreciate it because after a second’s wait it changed again, a mirror-flat lake at sunrise speckled with pink petals from a flowering tree, giant misty emerald-topped mountains that seemed to defy the laws of physics, a waterfall as wide as the grand canyon that roared with power, your head was spinning, it hurt...

... It stopped on what seemed to be a salt flat after rain; a perfectly blue sky peppered with cotton candy clouds, everything reflected below you in the world’s largest mirror. Nobody around for miles.

“i can control this world down to each molecule.” The voice continued. It seemed almost gleeful... showing off, enjoying boasting about all he could do. “i can give you anything you want. i could take you anywhere, show you anything... there’s nothing we can’t do together, here.”

... You felt something on your stomach.

The scenery changed again; a flower field, at night. An endless galaxy overhead, purple and blue and pink blooms shifting in the gentlest of breezes.

But you couldn’t concentrate. The fear that had suddenly gripped you was icy; and it wasn’t just the fear that had a hold of you. Something wrapped around your middle, your waist, something thick and long, you looked down...

... You had no idea what it was. A tentacle of some kind? It was as if someone had coated the body of a giant snake in a viscous, gooey, tar-like substance. Thick, black, slimy, it was cold where it touched the skin that wasn’t covered by your riding-up shirt, so cold... you wanted to shove it off you but you didn’t want to touch it, you were scared you’d put your hands on it and they’d just sink straight in and stick.

“... i could give you anything...” The voice wasn’t inside your mind anymore. It was behind you, like it’d escaped from your head, whispering into your ear so close you could feel hot breath against the skin. Another thing, appendage, tentacle, curled around your neck; it was so cold you sharply inhaled, a harsh contrast from the warmth of his breath. And when you tried to reach your hands up to it to grasp at it, to pull it off in a blind panic, no longer caring about the consistency... more curled around your wrists, snatching them back and holding them tight by your shoulders.

“and yet...” ... It shifted from playfully teasing... to something else. Something... angry.

A growl. 

“you just keep on defying me.”

The tentacles around you squeezed- your neck, your stomach, your wrists- you cried out, but you weren’t sure whether it was in pain or in terror as a squeak-like sound was forced out of you when your breath escaped. You didn’t understand what was going on, you could barely focus on not losing yourself in pure, unadulterated terror.

“i could be doing anything right now.” He continued. The landscape started to change again; but not into something beautiful. The stars started to flicker out and die one by one, flowers began to brown and rot and wilt, sinking into the grassless slick dirt and triggering a foul smell that invaded your nostrils and made you cringe. The gentle breeze vanished, replaced with a thick, uncomfortable heat that only worsened the smell. 

“i could be destroying whole universes- amusing myself by making them all bend to my will...” He squeezed tighter, you were starting to struggle for breath, wheezing and tearing up, you could feel more wet slimy tentacles curling around you... your legs, over your hips, across your chest... he was going to choke you, squeeze you to death. “billions of lives begging for mercy at my feet.”

You expelled a precious breath in a weak sob.

...

... The tentacles loosened. But they didn’t let go. You gasped in air and gagged, the awful smell making your eyes water and stinging the back of your throat... You didn’t understand, nothing made sense, your mind felt fuzzy and confused and lost. As you sucked in breath after breath, you didn’t notice the smell fading... the air becoming clean again, the mud and rot fading away like...

... like a bad dream.

Instead, it was pitch black. The kind of darkness that pressed in on all sides, that made you somehow feel both hopelessly lonely and like something was watching you. 

He moved, the voice moved. In front of you, in the darkness... a ring appeared. A ring of blue light; cold light, unfeeling, unfriendly... a single eye, partnered with a smile of giant ice-white teeth.

“but instead of all that...” The face came closer. And as it did, you could see more... you could see the ooze-covered skeletal face, the slick black substance all over him, even his clothes... you could see the way the tentacles restraining you came from his back. He didn’t stop approaching until he was inches away from your face again... smile looming over you, close enough to kiss your forehead... cold, cold hands pressed against your ribs and slid around to your back. Like he was holding you. “instead of ruling universes, i’m here again. playing with you. making intricate worlds for an ungrateful little human who won’t just give in to me... every night, something new. every night, something beautiful. and every night, you resist...”

One icy hand stayed on your back, the other... drifted up, cupping your head, weaving his giant phalanges through your hair at the scalp. 

“it’s infuriating.”

You felt terror clench your chest again, harder than before. What was he going to do? Was he going to tear it out? Snap your neck, dig those slimy claws into the back of your head and kill you? You felt your lip trembling, your eyes welling up with hot tears...

He was so close to you, pressed so flush, that when he shuddered you felt it. His grin only spread wider, inhumanly wide, that bright blue eye contracting like a snake squeezing a kill...

“that’s right, pet...” He said, voice a purr that barely hid his glee, tentacles beginning to squeeze again like the claws of an excited cat. “that’s it, fear me... i could squeeze you until you snap, i could tear you into bloody ribbons...”

His hand tilted your head upward, toward the face that took up your whole vision. In a strange way, it was a good thing he was holding your legs... you were certain that your feet wouldn’t hold you up any longer.

Whatever patience was holding him back seemed to snap when you pressed your lips together- the moment his glowing eye moved to your mouth, it twitched, and he closed the precious distance you had from him. A predator striking, a monster moving to eat you whole...

... He kissed you.

...

You startled awake, heaving in breaths and slick with cold sweat, staring up at your ceiling while gripping your mattress with white knuckles.

...

Oh fuck...

The sigh you breathed in relief racked your entire body from head to toe. Shaking, close to tears... Like you were expelling the tainted, fearful air from your lungs.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

The tentacles were just your bedsheets twisted around you, as you’d turned in a panic. The cold and ice was just your bare, sweat-dotted skin meeting air... even as you laid there, bathing in your own relief, you began to forget the terrible dream.

Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

... You sorted out your sheets, turning your pillow over to the cold side to nestle back into it, calm once again. You still had a few hours before your alarm would set off... now the bad dream was out of the way, you’d surely sleep peacefully.

It didn’t take very long for you to drift back into unconsciousness.

...

...

The shadows by your bed started to thicken, gathering into a form sitting by you on the bed. He stroked your hair behind your ear... icy blue eye watching silently. Adoringly.

He... had planned to make that encounter a little bit... softer. He’d gone into your dreams intending to keep you calm, keep you open to influence; and then he’d make himself known to you gently, acclimating you to his presence in your mind. Maybe strike up some nice conversation... He had it all planned so neatly...

... But your fear was just so... delicious. Your terror when he held you, those wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him with you totally under his control, at his mercy... what was supposed to be one of the lighter encounters quickly spiralled as he lost himself in your skin and breath and warmth and life, feeding like a parasite on the negativity pouring out of your Soul.

... He sighed. He’d let you sleep, for tonight... he had to think of a new place to take you to. A new world to make for you... hopefully, this time, it would be enough to keep you under his spell.

“... sleep tight, doll.” He purred, leaning down to press a toothy kiss to your forehead... before his form melted into the shadows of your room, like a ghost.

[herbwicc]

Tortitas de Calabaza- Squash Cakes/ Pumpkin Fritters for Samhain

I realize I don't talk a lot about witchcraft specifically as a Puerto Rican witch, so here's a thing for Samhain!

Tortitas de calabaza (called barriguitas de vieja in some towns, which means belly of an old lady lol) are a traditional Puerto Rican treat, you can make it as a dessert. 

First of all, we don't have actual pumpkin in PR, you know those big orange ones used here to carve jack-o-lanterns? Nah. Instead, our "calabaza" is actually a kind of kabocha, a dark sort of acorn squash looking pumpkin that grows wild there. My grandma harvests them wild from late summer to early fall, and it stores as well as any other winter squash. 

So, Samhain??? My family doesn't celebrate the wheel of the year like I do. But seasonal foods are a powerful way to connect to the seasonal changes and cycles, which is important to my practice. I personally associate this with autumnal sabbats, especially Samhain, because Pumpkin and its protective properties!

Without kabocha, you can also use regular pumpkin, acorn squash, or butternut squash.

Ingredients + Correspondences:

About 2 cups of cubed calabaza (kabocha squash), pumpkin or other winter squash-  protection, banishing, prosperity, abundance. 

3/4 to 1cup of Flour-  abundance, bounty, harvest, earth energy. 

1/4 tsp of baking powder 

1 tbsp of cinnamon-  protection, success, prosperity, love. 

1 egg- protection, hex breaking, cleansing negative energy, manifestation.  

3 to 5 tbsp of sugar (to taste)- sweetness, peace, and love. 

Pinch of salt- protection, cleansing. 

Some people add vanilla extract, my family does not. 

Steps: 

1. Your calabaza should be cut in cubes like this: 

You’re gonna start by boiling it in water with the salt, until soft- until you can easily slide a fork into it. 

2. Drain the water out and, in a bowl, mash up your squash, kind of like making mashed potatoes: 

****If you want to skip the part where you cut, gut, chop, boil, and mash up a hard squash, you could maybe try with canned pumpkin puree? I never have. Let me know how it goes! 

3. To this, you will add the 1 egg FIRST. Mix it really well. Once the egg is mixed, it should look like this: 

4. Now you will add the baking powder, cinnamon, and sugar. mix it up well. Taste and add more sugar to your liking. 

5. Mix in the flour IN SMALL PARTS. Don’t worry if you don’t use the full cup of flour, just mix the batter as you are mixing in the flour, until you get the right consistency. The consistency is KEY- it should NOT look like puree, it should NOT be liquidy. It SHOULD look clumpy, thick, and similar to gross putty tbh. Like this: 

6. Pour enough oil into a pan to deep fry. Set the heat on HIGH. We are going to flash fry these suckers, because the squash is already cooked. To flash fry, it is important that the oil be VERY VERY HOT. To know if your oil is ready, slide in a little bit of the batter and see if it fries. 

7. Scoop out a spoonful of the batter and, using another spoon, slowly slide it into the oil. DO NOT PLOP/DROP THE BATTER IN THE OIL. The oil will get everywhere and you will be burned. 

8. It only takes maybe 15 or 20 seconds for one side to get nice and toasty. You’ll know when the edges start to look crispy. That’s when you flip it and let it toast the other side of your little patty. When both sides are nice and gold and crisp, they’re done! 

9. Sprinkle on some confectioners sugar if you want :) done! 

[vandissima]

Here, I review Tea Hacic-Vlacovic’s podcast, Troie Radicali. Text also featured below.

“My pronouns are Troia/Radicale”

The inimitable personality of Tea Hacic-Vlacovic radiates through her provocative (and often times drunken) podcast Troie Radicali. Hacic-Vlacovic, whose adventures often call back to the ups and downs of living in Milan’s glamorously squalid fashion scene in the early 2000s, is a Croatian-born American author who migrated to Europe’s fashion capital in her early twenties.

Tea greets her listeners at the opening of each episode with a vibrant “Ciao Troie!”. As if she were opening her door to welcome you in for an aperitivo before heading out to a party somewhere. The show, born around march 2020 is one of the most thrilling “pandemic babies” I’ve come across so far. Each episode is a clash of stories from the glossy underworld that is Hacic-Vlacovic’s life as a fashion personality turned “Night-life Historian”. The uncensored storytelling is always accompanied by a savvy and unfettered commentary on issues surrounding womanhood, sex, drugs, fashion, men, more drugs, queerness, and all of the drugs.

“Speaking English is wearing flats, speaking Italian is wearing stilettos” declares one of Tea Hacic-Vlacovic’s recent tweets. Troie Radicali, of course is hosted in Italian. Unbothered by her thick American accent, Hacic-Vlacovic expresses herself freely and incorrectly, with irreverence, charisma and — porca madonna— style. There is too much to be said to worry about linguistic inconsistencies. To top everything off, the unpredictable episode release dates and durations contribute to the curated chaos of this podcast— whose title, by the way, translates to “Radical Whores”.

One of the show’s most captivating qualities is Hacic-Vlacovic’s nonchalance in narrating her somewhat shocking life and opinions. Her submerged perspective in party culture and the Moda industry grants the listener a peek into alternative lifestyles that often hide in broad daylight. Hacic-Vlacovic unapologetically twirls between one taboo and the next while recounting her experiences with irresistible humor.

No topic is off the table; brazen and often unspoken remarks on life are always backed up by a surprising yet accurate logic. Tutti fanno schifo, SOPRATUTTO LE DONNE! (everyone is gross, ESPECIALLY WOMEN) chants Hacic-Vlacovic in the episode entitled “IL SCHIFO”. In this oddly feminist rant Hacic-Vlacovic exposes the grotesque nature of women’s bodies —from clumpy periods to horrific childbirth— probing the laughable rhetoric that women are dainty and pure creatures.

The outrageous openness and acceptance of all people and lifestyles that permeate this podcast create a safe space to challenge conventions and unleash one’s inner radical whore. Listening to Tea Hacic-Vlacovic is like taking a breath of fresh cigarette smoke with your favorite bianco after a long day surrounded by uomini del cazzo. It is like the drunk conversations you get to have with your new best friend (that you just met outside of the club). It is like reading the comment section of Lady Gaga’s newest music video.

[e-wills-afterhours]

Things You’ve Always Wanted To Ask Your Gyno, But Haven’t

I’m making this post to address a short list of very common questions/comments I address almost daily. This isn’t all-inclusive. The information below is very generalized; I could go off on tangents on every point to include exceptions to the rules, yadda yadda. This post is meant to inform, not diagnose or treat. 

1. Do you prefer your patients to be clean shaven?

No. I probably get at least one young lady apologizing to me daily about the state of her pubic hair--mainly, that she came to see me with any at all. Let me put your fears to rest: I don’t care about pubes. Having pubic hair is kind of a natural state of adult female genitalia. All I care about is if you are happy with the state of your lady bits yourself, no matter how you groom. I have seen it all: completely bald to full bush. I don’t have a preference on how my patients present to me. Pubic hair only becomes an issue if there is some skin-related problem I need to address; and only if the hair is thick enough to obscure what it is I’m supposed to be looking at. 

2. I’m sexually active. Do I need to have a Pap smear?

That depends on your age. If you are younger than 21, a pelvic exam/Pap smear is not indicated unless you have a specific problem (vaginal symptoms) that would require me to look and assess closer. Even if you are not 21, we would still like to see you annually if you are on birth control just to check-in and make sure you’re not having any issues with it.

3.  I’m on my period and that’s GROSS. I have an issue I need to be seen for, but I have to reschedule my appointment now.

If I were scared of menstrual blood, I would not have dedicated myself to women’s health. Whether or not periods are an issue is a matter of flow. A Pap smear can be inconclusive if there are too many red blood cells present in the specimen, which means you earn a follow-up Pap smear. Who wants to experience THAT twice in year? Also, if I’m going to swab for yeast or BV (which requires analyzing a slide under a microscope), too many red blood cells can be an issue in that case. Otherwise, there’s not much that a light-to-moderate flow is going to prevent me from assessing. 

4. It’s unhealthy to skip periods, right?

That depends. Are you on birth control? If so, periods are not necessary. That’s a big misconception. The only time we get concerned that you are missing periods is if you are NOT on birth control. Then we’re thinking there’s some kind of hormonal imbalance present. You should not go longer than 90 days without a period if you are not on birth control, because we get concerned about something called endometrial hyperplasia. That’s a fancy way of saying uterine lining is building up and just sitting there, increasing a long-term risk of endometrial problems like atypia and cancer.

5. What is my vagina supposed to smell like?

You may laugh, but I get asked this a lot. No odor? Fine. Musty, sweaty odor? Usually fine, especially after a long day in less breathable fabrics. Give her some air and maybe a quick wipe down. Fishy odor? Indicates possible infection, especially if coupled with other vaginal symptoms like unusual discharge, irritation, burning, etc. Sweet, bready odor? You could have a yeast infection, especially if you experience concurrent itching, burning, swelling, and/or thick, clumpy discharge.

6. How am I supposed to clean down there?

Use just a mild soap and water, like a plain Dove or Dial. Avoid a lot of perfumes. Definitely no antibacterial anything in that area. You don’t need to thoroughly clean up inside the vagina either; she cleans herself. It is possible to over-wash her and lead to pH imbalances. Don’t douche. I discourage things like bath bombs, feminine washes, vaginal steaming, etc. All of that stuff can cause more issues, just for the sake of a squeaky-clean rose garden of a vagina. Such a thing does not and should not exist as a standard of vaginal cleanliness and health. The less you mess with her, the happier she generally is.

7. You really don’t care about pubic hair???

No. I really don’t. I promise.

Next up on the blog: Birth Control Breakdown: Your Options

[sambergscott]

[untitled pointless pregnancy fluff because, you’ve guessed it, i want jake to put a baby in her]

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not moving!”

“You obviously are-.”

“Only because you keep getting nail polish on my toes not my toenails!”

When his 38-week-pregnant wife burst into tears just a few minutes earlier because her nail polish was chipped and she couldn’t reach her toes because of her “big, stupid” baby bump, he offered up his nail painting services. His wife discount, he’d claimed, was that she only had to pay him in kisses.

She was all too happy to oblige.

The only problem? He didn’t expect it to be so damn difficult.

He has no idea how people do this crap all the time. He’s only two toes in and he’s already managed to stain their carpet (he knocked the bottle over, Amy hasn’t noticed yet), get red polish all over her skin, somehow missing the edge of her nail entirely and start an argument with his heavily pregnant wife. She’d have been better off going to the salon.

“I’m not going to the salon because we’re not supposed to be making unnecessary purchases, remember?” She says pointedly, as if reading his mind.

He knows she’s referring to the adorable baby sneakers he bought last week because he couldn’t help himself. “She won’t even wear them for a few months,” she’d lamented when he came home with the bag from his favourite sneaker store.

“Babies are expensive.”

“We can afford for you to get your nails painted properly, babe. I’m horrible at this.”

“Title of your sextape!” She yells victoriously.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he deadpans, not enjoying being the butt of his own joke. Plus, it’s inaccurate. Their sex life has been stupid good since day one. “Are you sure you want me to carry on?”

“Title of your sextape!”

“Alright, I deserved that one,” he mumbles. “Seriously, Ames, I will pay for someone to do your nails for you. Hell, I’ll pay Gina to do it.”

Amy scrunches up her nose. “Gina will just make fun of me feet and make me cry. Do you want me to cry some more?”

“No, ‘course not,” he responds dutifully. “I love your feet, by the way. They’re perfect.”

“All feet are gross, but thanks for being the sweetest husband ever,” she says, patting him on the cheek. “Now get painting.”

He sighs, removing the top from the bottle and painting a thick stripe of red down the centre of her nail, sticking his tongue out his mouth as he concentrates on filling in the sides without getting any on her skin.

He fails, but it’s less of a mess than his first two tries.

She tells him about the parenting book she was reading earlier and he catches her up on the Nine-Nine goss. They talk about how Camila wants to stay with them for the first few weeks after the baby is born and how Karen found out and also wants to stay with them and where the hell they will all sleep. And how they will all sleep, with a crying, screaming newborn in the apartment.

“We’re really close now, huh?” Jake murmurs, beginning to paint her final few nails.

“Super close,” she agrees. “You scared?”

“Terrified,” he says honestly. “And you?”

“The same.” She bites her lip, just watching him in silence for a few seconds. “We can handle it though, right?”

“We can handle anything. Annnd…. we’re done! Ten beautifully painted toes.”

She sticks her legs up in the air, almost whacking him in the face, and wiggles her toes as she admires them in their freshly painted glory. The polish is kinda clumpy and it’s all over her skin and he’s missed a few spots, but for a newbie he did a pretty good job.

“I should become a beautician,” he muses, screwing the top on the bottle and putting it back with the rest of the collection. “Although, since I only charge in kisses, you’d be my only client. It wouldn’t be a very successful businesses.”

“I better be,” she threatens, reaching her arms out for him.

He closes the distance between them and kisses her soundly. “Best and only client. Even though you did keep moving in order to sabotage me, you saboteur!”

She rolls her eyes, shutting him up in the best way she knows how.

[musikat18]

Believe Me (Gavin x Reader Drabble)

Pairing: Gavin Magary x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend shows up at your door late at night, covered in something gross and very much in need of some support.

Warnings: Dragon snot, Sad Puppy Gavin, setting things on fire, generally falls in the Hurt/Comfort genre of fic

A/N: I was inspired by this gif but it didn’t show up in the search so here it is. Also apologies for shitty title...shitty title is shitty.

Was it a little early? Yes, but you’d still been sleeping, so you were a tad annoyed at the persistence of the knocking at the door. You threw a simple cardigan on over your night shift and answered the door with groggy eyes.

Your guest was certainly a surprise to you, enough to make you suddenly wide awake.

“Gavin?”

Lo and behold, your boyfriend of roughly a week stood on your doorstep, looking exhausted in more ways than one and thinly glazed in something strong, green, thick, and a little clumpy.

“What are you doing here?” you crossed your arms over your chest; sure, you and Gavin and Jack had known each other since you were kids, but your changed dynamic with the older Magary brother made you feel a little shy. “It’s late.”

“Look, this is gonna sound completely crazy,” he began, eyes a little wild with exasperation and wear, “but I got chased by a dragon and Jack doesn’t believe me, so I...I...I just need someone who....”

He flitted his eyes away as your face transitioned from one of concern to confusion. Shame welled up in his chest. Who was he kidding? If he couldn’t count on Jack to get behind him, why would you?

Sympathy, however, shone in your eyes, “Just...come inside, get cleaned up, leave your clothes in a trash bag. I think I still have some of yours from when you and Jack stayed over after the funeral.”

The corner of his mouth turned up a little as you stepped aside to let him in. You gave him space to take a trash bag and go upstairs (partly because whatever he was covered in smelled absolutely rancid-- was it some kind of bad sap or something?). As you listened to the water run and tried to configure what he could have possibly been talking about, you prepared a mug of something warm and strong before venturing upstairs to retrieve the bag of his clothes.

You gagged a little. Good god, not even a bag could cover that smell. Taking a lighter you no longer cared for, you took it and the bag outside and tossed the thing burning on the bag once you were an alright distance from your house. You jolted a little at the speed with which the fire consumed the bag and its contents, soon dying out without fuel.

Whatever that was, it wasn’t sap.

To quell your growing concern, you brought yourself back inside, where Gavin was now sitting at your breakfast table in boxers and a white t-shirt, weariness shadowed on his face in the dim light.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked gently. You didn’t know what it was, literally, you had no idea what had actually happened, and you had no clue what this metaphorical ‘dragon’ he’d mentioned was.

He gave his head a simple shake, droplets falling on your table from his still-wet mane of fluffy hair.

“I just...I thought I could count on Jack. Figured he’d have my six. Guess I was wrong.”

Your heart broke for him.

He leaned back in his chair, “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. He’s never once listened to me, never once believed me about anything, I just-” He scrubbed a hand over his face, “No, I’m not perfect and yeah, I can kind of be a screw-up, but I...I’m not crazy.”

You slid your hand across the table to grasp his free one, fingers lacing gently with his, “I believe you.”

His eyes were soft and hopeful as he looked at you through dark lashes, “You do?”

You weren’t sure, but your heart was aching for him, “Gavin, I know you. You may exaggerate things every now and again, but you’re no liar.” You felt him squeeze your hand; he brought his other to brush your cheek. 

“I...don’t deserve you.”

You smiled and took the hand on your face in yours.

“You deserve to not feel like crap, no matter what the situation is.”

When he smiled at you, the entire night lit up like midday.

“...Can I stay here tonight? I...I need you. And the guys took my truck. I can bunk on the couch.”

You traced the lines of his face with your eyes.

“No...I mean, yeah, you can stay, just...come to bed with me,” at his questioning look, you clarified, “we don’t have to, like, do stuff and stuff, I just...I don’t know, I thought it might be nice. And you’re clean now. So yeah.”

A grin spread across Gavin’s face, and he offered you his arm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Not tagging anyone at the moment because tags are going wild, but if you’d like to go on the tag list, add yourself here!

[party-gilmore]

I understand being frustrated at others reactions, but for some people it's a big issue. Not every period is the same, and not every person's reaction to blood is the same.

There's folks who can't even get blood drawn at the doctors without feeling faint.

There's people who's periods come out so thick and clumpy that is DOES feel like your squishing around in something gross all day long - pad finally absorbs the clot? Great! Here's a fresh sneeze. Now you've got three new ones to feel smush against your labia!

Not everyone's tampon is neat and easy, the cotton holding everything in. Some swell to full capacity, gooey liquidy blood seeping out between the fibers, leaving a thick, leech like trail on any surface you accidentally drop it on.

Some people's period blood has this... this smell to it too. Like... dank rotting moss plus that rusty tang of blood, like... it can literally smell like something as died. And it's just. It's just how it is. It's just that particular person's combination of PH and hormones and so on so forth. But it is visceral. I've gagged more than a few times just pulling out my own tampon - usually it's just days where my stress levels been high, fucking up my hormones, but it's rough.

I very much do not want to have see or deal with my own menstrual blood if I can help it, let alone someone elses, because my experience with it is not at ALL like the blood from the rest of my body. It's heavy and clumpy and thick and stinks and feels perversely intimate to be on the outside of my body like it was in my vagina and now it's out here dangling from the end of a cotton string. And if I were to just leave it, not wrap it up before putting it in the trash... I don't know it just feels GROSS. I don't want someone else just... seeing something that was inside me.

So I'm very happy for everyone who it doesn't bother. I too get frustrated at the overreactions of people seeing period products, or blowing an accidentally left tampon out of proportion acting like the person who left it was dirty or nasty. I know half the world experiences it and it's normal.

But please don't lump us all in together and immediately write those of us who struggle with it as internalized misogyny or immaturity. We're fucking allowed to find things gross, whatever the reason is for it. Big reasons, small reason, whatever. It doesn't mean we're stigmatizing or sensationalizing or whatever.

We can still think it's normal, AND gross, at the same time.

women who seem grossed out by their own periods are strange to me. like on reddit whenever theres some post of some man being offended at seeing a roommates used menstrual products in the trash or some advertisement on facebook for reusable period products there are always women who are like “its a biohazard!!! i dont want to see it!!!! its basically the same as shit!!!! im a woman and even i get squicked out by it!!” like how do you function. i literally have no reaction to the sight of my menstrual blood. i never even thought to consider it gross. you feel like you may as well be uncontrollably shitting your pants 7 days out of the month? you feel like youre getting literal shit and piss everywhere? right now theres a post of some guy being mad about seeing his sisters pads in the trash and someone is like “blood is a biohazard. no need to risk it being smeared around any more than necessary.” like first of all who is smearing blood around. it is contained in the pad….that is the job of the pad… its not gonna leak out of the trashcan and kill you

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Crapulous

Characters: Dean, Reader, OC Patsy

Word Count: 2700-ish (whatttt?? that’s it??)

Warnings: Language, alcoholic consumption, sass

A/N: The morning after an alcohol-soaked case, the reader is doing her best to recover with little-to-no help from Dean. I wrote this for @seenashwrite‘s 200 followers celebration. Prompts are bolded throughout the fic. I also managed to sneak in the Hiatus Challenge prompt from @thing-you-do-with-that-thing. *Nash, although I didn’t sign up for it, there’s a bonus prompt in there, too!! Many thanks to @idreamofhazel and @kayteonline for being fabulous and helpful betas. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated!

I groan as I feel sleep drifting away from me. My head is rocking and bouncing with the potholes in the road, but I fight it, desperate to hide away from consciousness and the hangover that would come with it. The beginnings of it already start to creep in on me, my body sore and achy, the foul taste of hard liquor remnants coming alive as I lick at my dry mouth. My eyes scrunch further shut and my nose crinkles in displeasure as the heat from the sun beats down on me.

“Nooooo,” I moan, feeling the immediate jack-hammering to my skull, making my brain throb as I start to wake. “Oh. Bad.”

A feeling of nausea rolls through me, my stomach quivering as it threatens to heave up its contents.

“Well,” Dean says, gratefully gently, “Good morning, starshine.”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off and making him chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

“Aww, come on. Can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.” I whine. Completely pathetic.

“Hey. Don’t pass out on me again.”

I wave him off as he chuckles to himself again, and once I swallow the nausea back down, I resettle myself to pass back out. I’m just finding the sweet spot when I feel the car swerve then start to shake and rattle, the loud thundering from beneath us jolting me upright as I cling to the dashboard.

“Ohmygod!”

Dean turns the wheel, pulling the Impala away from the rumble strip along the side of the highway. “You gotta wake up, we’re almost in Hays.”

“Ugh, again?” I look at him, my face scrunched up in pain. “Can’t we just go home so I can die in peace?”

He purses his lips, at least pretending to think it over. “No can do. I’ve got a date with a plate of bacon and a sweet, sweet woman.”

“Dean, it’s unhealthy.”

“Look, leave the bacon alone-”

“No, not the bacon - Patsy. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Pshh,” he shook his head at me, “You sound jealous.”

“You. Wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls off the highway and into a lot overgrown with weeds and rogue patches of grass. The restaurant lacks a sign out front, and if it weren’t for the huge, dingy windows, no one would have known people were inside. Dean quickly hops out, waiting as I force myself from the car, every bit of me protesting as I go.

He pulls open the creaking screen door, following as I walk through first, and lets it slam shut behind him. The short, leather-skinned waitress pushes through the kitchen door, mouth curved into a wrinkled frown.

“There’s my special lady!” Dean shouts from behind me, making me cringe. I glance to my left, noticing a group of college kids looking like they’re still going from the night before, and on the other side, a few other stragglers who seem just as confused as I am as to why they are there.

“Well hey Dean, Y/n. Go on, sit down, you’re blockin’ the breeze,” she says, shooing us away from the entrance and the swiveling fan that pulls in nothing but dry, hot air from outside.

Dean shoves me into a booth, just settling in as she places down two waters, condensation already dripping down the sides of the slim glasses.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon. You keep up with all these visits and you’re gonna make my husband jealous,” she croaks. Her sandpaper voice, perfected by about 80 years of smoking at least 2 packs a day sends my skin crawling with irritation.

“Which husband is that - number four or number five?” I ask, rubbing my head on my palm.

She tilts a hip, setting her hand on it. “Four. And if I have my way, Dean will be my lucky number five,” she responds matter-of-factly.

“Ohhh, Patsy, I’m yours. Just as long as you vow to make me that pie of yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she scolds him. “You’re gonna be my trophy husband. Can’t let you go and get all plump on pies.”

“More like consolation prize,” I mutter.

“Please honey, this boy is arm candy and you know it,” she emphasizes with a bony finger pointed at me. Dean sits up a bit straighter, pleased to be so blatantly objectified as I roll my eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement strains my eye muscles.

“So what am I in this whole situation?”

Patsy eyes me up and down for a moment, clumpy mascara chunks sticking together as she lazily blinks.

“I’ll let you be his mistress. I’m sure he’s got the stamina for it, and Lord knows you ain’t got the brains to lock him down before someone else does.”

I bark out a laugh, setting off a fresh wave of pain in my head. “More like I’m too smart for that.”

She gives me a pointed look, droopy eyelids hanging down despite the eyebrow she’s raised.

“What? I am,” I insist.

“Right, because you walked into ‘Stripper’s Discount Warehouse’ and said, ‘Help me showcase my intellect.’”

I drop my mouth open, amusement and shock hitting me in equal measure. Dean slams a hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Patsy, go easy on her, she’s had a rough night.” He gestures at me and I glance down at myself, assessing whether or not I look as awful as I feel. I’m still wearing my ‘bait’ outfit that helped me blend in with the rowdy, drunk crowd from the night before. It’s more than a little off-kilter; I wipe under my eyes, pulling away the residue of eye makeup.

“Well, Dean, if that’s how you leave the ladies the morning after, I might have to reconsider our relationship.”

“Please, Patsy, you know I’d treat you like a queen.” He grabs her hand, holding it tenderly.

“And I’d never let you out of bed to see the outside world again.” She winks. “Now, let’s get some food in y’all before Y/n here goes green.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head in awe. “I love you.”

She pats his shoulder condescendingly as she walks away humming ‘Looking for Love,’ refilling a few coffee mugs and jotting down an order for the cook waiting at the griddle.

“So, fill me in on last night. I’m guessing the bloodsuckers didn’t give you too much trouble?” I ask, sipping the water and letting my fingers trail along the condensation.

“Nah, it was pretty easy to get the location of the nest. However, you...at last call, that’s a whole other story.”

“Yikes.” It’s as much of an apology as I can give at the moment, but he accepts it. I dig an ice cube from the glass and pop it into my mouth, “Next time, I’m dangling you for bait.”

“What? I don’t get an encore?” He smirks.

“An encore of what?” I ask with a tilt of my head. Desperate for the pain to go away so I can focus on remembering what happened.

His smirk spreads into a wide smile, his eyes shining with mischief. How he looks so good while I feel so terrible just makes me more frustrated and ready to backhand him. A flash of red and green zooms past before I hear it plunked onto the table, drawing my attention away from our staring contest.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my man and drink up,” Patsy interrupts.

I turn to her, getting a stern look in reply as she nods at the table. A short glass of thick, red tomato juice with a huge celery stalk sticking out of it rests before me, which I stare at suspiciously.

“Hair of the dog, hun. It’ll perk you right up.”

My stomach rolls and Dean laughs at the gurgle.

“Oh, well, I hope that’s got some whiskey, and some tequila, and let’s see -  does rum sound right to you?”

“I'll be...ugh….bathroom,” I mumble and gesture as I scramble out of the booth, tripping on anything and everything on my way. A watery belch escapes from my stomach, burning on the way up.

“Gross,” I whisper at myself, trying to ignore the giggling from the table of college kids that got an earful.

The bathroom smells like piss, and wet dog, and more piss - not helping my uneasy stomach, but at this point I'm sure puking would make me feel worse. I hover over the seat, weakly tugging at the fabric at my hips to pull it down, until the urge becomes too much and I shove them down, letting out an ahhh of relief, followed swiftly by a confused, “What the -?”

After taking a moment to wipe some cool water over my face and clean up the smudged makeup and drool marks, I do my best to walk back without wobbly legs, barely making it before collapsing back into the booth, sliding across the vinyl to unflattering noises, grateful to have to put little to no effort into sitting.

“Dean?”

“Yup?” he asks, popping the ‘p’ harder than necessary. His bottom lip is stiff and trembling as he tries to hold onto a straight face.

“Whose underwear am I wearing?”

Before I get two words out he's folding over in laughter.

“Fucking tequila,” I spit, angry at drunk me, and more angry at Dean for enjoying it so much.

He's trying to form words between laughter, but only gets out snippets that don't make any sense. “The band...and these paper hats...he had beef jerky...and you...and you…” He gives up as I stare at him flatly, not following a damn bit of it but certain I had violated at least a few local ordinances by his reaction.

“And what did you do that whole time?”

He digs his phone from his pocket, wiggling it in his palm. “Surveillance.” He winks.

My head hurts more. My brain rattles in my skull with every hard beat of my heart, the blood struggling to pump through my dehydrated body. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the glass of tomato juice, hoping what's in there is enough to provide relief until we get back to the bunker. If Dean’s this thrilled, I must have done something good, but it's all blank, hours lost to a haze of alcohol and loads of blackmail. God Damn it.

“For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.” I attempt to sound repentant.

“Prayers won't help you with this one.”

I open my eyes, staring at the cocktail in my hands and the absurd celery stalk standing in it like it's a Magic 8 Ball, ready to provide me with an answer as I continue my prayer. “Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.”

“That was very moving.” I look up, surprised to see Patsy there with a tray of food and a smirk on her face. She sets the food on the table in front of us, moving things as she pleases to make room.

“It was something,” Dean laughs, shaking his head back and forth, staring at his phone screen.

“I'm too hungover for this.” With a groan and all the speed I can muster, I reach across the table, barely snatching the phone from his hand before he can react and dropping it right into the thick, red juice sending it splattering across the table.

I pick up the glass and hand it to Patsy. She takes it gingerly between her fingers, eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“Patsy, dear sweet angel that you are, can I please get another? There's something in this one.”

“Waste of vodka,” she grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.

Dean has his head resting on his fist, a bored look in his face instead of the angry one I expected. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Sammy’s got everything backed up. The cloud, ya know,” he waves a hand in the air, “Now all you did was piss off Patsy.”

“Whatever, she knows you're an ass.”

“Blue ribbon ass.” He takes another bite, talking through his food. “Don’t forget, I’m a prize.”

“You sure are honey,” Patsy croons at him. “But darlin’, you mistreat this girl right here and I don’t care how sweet that ass is, I will beat it up and down main street.”

Patsy sets another drink down in front of me, sending a nod of solidarity my way as she sets Dean’s napkin-wrapped phone in front of him. I finally take a sip, only slightly gagging as I push more alcohol into my system.

“Careful, Patsy, I might like it,” he calls over his shoulder as she walks away.

“So would I,” she hollers as she pushes through the kitchen door.

“Could you be any louder?” I whine, grasping my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the seat and go to sleep again. “Next time you’re the bait.”

“You just wanna see me in a skimpy outfit.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“So, the case,” his picks up, muffled by a mouthful of food, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Lord, take me now.” I pinch my nose in frustration.

“Okay, ignoring that. So, good news, the plan worked and we drew out the nest.”

“How could there be bad news?”

“We still gotta take them out.”

“Excuse me? H-how? I mean. Why?” I watch as he shoves more food into his mouth, ignoring me.

“Yeah, so it looks like we’re still on clean up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Oh, I liked that show,” Patsy chimes in, breaking the tension as she fills up Dean’s half-empty coffee mug. “And, ya know, I like them Twilight vampires, too.” She walks away, not adding anything further to the conversation.

Dean’s face curls in displeasure, his voice dropping low, “Oh, Patsy. No.”

“Patsy, yes.” I smile sleepily. “You know, opposites attract. I can see why you like coming here so much.”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands and face.

“So,” I gulp down more of the cocktail, “Where are they?”

He stares down at the egg residue on his plate, swirling it with the tines of his fork. “They’re, uhhh, West. Just over the Colorado border.”

I squint. “Dean. That’s where we just came from.”

He glances up at me, lips pinched shut as he chews. His eyes wide with a fake look of surprise.

“God damn it, Dean!” He freezes and I lower my voice. “You mean to tell me you just dragged my hungover ass two hours away from our hunt for some breakfast.”

“Not just breakfast,” he insists, shaking his head. “Patsy.”

“You’re seriously obsessed. Are we sure she isn’t a siren or a witch...or mayyybe some kind of rogue leviathan hybrid -”

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Y/n.”

“What if she’s got the whole town under a spell, and we’re screwed because she’d dumbed us down with food…”

“Please stop,” Dean begs, eyeballing the skillet in front of him.

“Oh no no no. Just imagine, we’ve got her cornered, torching this godforsaken place, but we’re too dumbed down to move, and like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of the burning building and you think - Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just - flurp - falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.” I finish describing the scene with my hands clenched around the air.

Dean stares at me blankly, chewing uneasily on the food in his mouth. “That was cruel.”

“What was cruel? Something wrong, hun?” Patsy stops, nodding at Dean’s unfinished plate.

He gives her a skeptical up-down. “No, no, just gotta, you know, hit the road again.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typical.” She shakes her head as she slaps down the bill. “Til next time, darlin’.”

He watches her shuffle away, eyes shifting between the waitress and me. He leans in, whispering, “You don’t really think? I mean, it’s Patsy.”

“Seriously. Grossly. Infatuated.” I shake my head in disbelief, “If we check her out and she’s clean, I won’t come between you again, I promise. Now let’s get back out there and you can tell me about what happened to my underwear before this vodka wears off.”

Tags y’all:

@aprofoundbondwithdean @attractiverandomness @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @babypieandwhiskey @brewsthespirit-blog @mysaintsasinner @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @bringmesomepie @sharingan-rasengan-chidori @muliermalefici @mogaruke @feelmyroarrrr @kayteonline  @notnaturalanahi  @anokhi07 @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @ceeceewinchester @roxy-davenport @anotherwinchesterfangirl @demondean-for-kingofhell @iwantthedean @klaineaholic @wheresthekillswitch

[stimtoybox]

Help me solve a slime fail!

Because I can’t afford international shipping and I like learning to make things, I’ve started making my own slimes. I’ve been using Lincraft’s house branded glitter poster paint (it’s glue but they call it paint) with water and borax (approximately 1 teaspoon of borax dissolved in half a cup of boiling water, added slowly until the slime stops sticking - never the whole half cup) and it makes a sticky, taffy-like slime that stretches longer than I am tall. When I combine it with shaving foam, it becomes soft, fluffy, non-sticky and amazing. Save for a few bits of glitter on my hands (some colours leave no glitter, some do) I’m super pleased with these slimes.

These paints/glues are being clearanced out, though, and when they’re gone I’ll have to find something else for slime-making. (The brand name glitter paints in Lincraft cost $8 AUD for a 250 ml bottle; I’ve been buying these for $2 AUD. Nor do I know if that brand contains PVA like these do: not all glitter paints or glues contain PVA.) Standard white PVA glue is cheapest (I got mine from Bunnings, $11 AUD for the 1 litre tub) but I can also get clear/gel PVA ($3 AUD a bottle) from Kaiser Craft.

I think you can understand why I’d really like to master white glue slime, as it’s the most inexpensive option.

I’ve used standard recipes online for both glues (white and gel) and I cannot get them to work. They don’t stretch at all and end up as pudding or super-fragile/tearing putty (too much borax). I’ve tried using more water/less borax and the slime is either watery and gross (without stretch) or hard and clumpy (without stretch). When I add the borax solution to the glitter paint/glue, I get the slime forming stretchy, sticky strands immediately and just beat/knead, adding activator, until it stops sticking to the bowl or my hands. This never happens with the white or clear PVA glues above. It just forms gross clumps that either stay watery, gains a pudding consistency without stretch or becomes putty-thickness but rips. However, using less borax always gets me the watery globs or the non-stretchy pudding slime.

I assume there’s some magical ratio of glue to water to borax to make white or clear/gel PVA work and result in the soft, stretchy slimes I see online, but I cannot find it in my own experimentation. I’ve had the same results with cheap craft white PVA and the woodworking white PVA above, so I don’t think it’s the brand of glue but the amount of water and/or borax.

(Sta Flo doesn’t exist here; it’s also difficult to tell if laundry detergents contain borax/boric acid. Borax is easiest and cheapest to obtain. Elmer’s glue is equally inaccessible, as far as I can tell from browsing craft and art shops. I can probably get my hands on contact lens solution but borax will be cheaper over time.)

Can anyone who’s used to working with borax and PVA help me out? I’d be super grateful for any advice!

Image description under the cut to save on post length:

[image description: a collection of ingredients for slime making and a row of clear plastic rectangular and square containers containing handmade slime.

Ingredients: 250 ml clear bottles of Lincraft Poster Paint in glittery purple, pink and yellow; Mont Marte Washable School Glue gel, a clear glue in a clear 147 ml bottle; a large white 1 L tub of Parfix PVA Wood Glue; a white 200 ml aerosol can of Nivea Men Sensitive Shaving Foam; a 1 kg white laundry-soaker-style tub of Glitz Green Borax.

Slimes: orange clear-bead-studded glitter slime; yellow glitter slime; orange glitter fishbowl slime studded with plastic counters; green and yellow fluffy slime; salmon pink glittery fluffy slime; a very bubbled clear putty.]

[luxelipssinkships]

Winter Glamourland Boxed Set $45.00

I have a nail polish hoarding problem, and my love of Kathleen Light’s brand KL Polish is completely to blame. When I saw this winter collection, I was instantly obsessed, and it is for sure my favorite set she has released so far. Full of deep, classic shades and neutral tones, these six polishes are flattering on so many different people. Let’s get into some swatches and reviews of each shade!

Casino Night

“shimmery gold”

First up is this eye catching true gold sparkler! As soon as I saw this, I knew I needed to wear it on New Years Eve, and I was so pleased with how opaque and stunning it was with only two coats. I was expecting it to need a million coats like a lot of glittery polishes, but the formula is very thick and doesn’t look clumpy or gross. This is also fairly easy to peel off or remove with remover, you don’t have to scrub and pick off each piece of glitter.

Cassiopeia

“gray-black with multidimensional shimmers”

I am usually a cream or matte polish girl, but this color really caught my eye. I love dark polish, and this is such a fun twist on the classic black nail look. This truly looks like a starry galaxy on the nails, and it only needs two coats to get an even, opaque look. This would also make a great accent nail color!

Central Park

“dark blackened green”

Green nails are in and when I’m not wearing a khaki green, this pine forest color is my go-to. This makes me think of christmas trees and camping, and it has the perfect amount of black in it to make it wearable. The more coats you add, the less the green peeks through, so you can really customize this shade.

Mindy

“dark berry”

I am not normally interested in berry shades for my nails, but something about this color was so unique to me. It has enough black in it to deepen up the pink and red without making it look too crimson. I wore this shade on Christmas eve and it matched the mood perfectly! This shade, like Central Park, gets darker with every coat, so you can either have a very red/pink shade or a deeper, more blackened berry color.

Ace

“true red”

A true fire truck red polish is a staple in every girls collection, so having one in my favorite formula is a must! I currently have this on my nails, and it reminds me so much of OPI’s Big Red Apple (the perfect red in my opinion). This red is such a universal shade, perfect on every age and skin tone.

Graham

“slate gray”

And last but not least, this unbelievably cool gray shade! Light neutrals are my middle name, and whenever I find a new hue in that category, I can’t get enough. This looks more taupe in the bottle than it does on the nails, so don’t get it confused with any other cool toned nude. This is a true milky gray, and I find it so striking on the nails.

Let me know if you’ve tried any of these new shades and what your thoughts are!

Glowingly yours,

Jess

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