#red beets

[selfcarecookingadventures]

A couple weeks ago I tried beets for the first time. My boss was having them with feta for lunch one day and I mentioned how I've never had them. The next week she brought me in a thing of feta and a package of organic cooked beets. I had them for lunch and decided I liked them enough to try making something with them.

Fast forward to today and ta-da!

This is a beet salad recipe I found online and decided to make. It was absolutely delicious. I didn't have a red onion, so that was the only part I was missing.

I highly recommend this recipe. I loved it. The orange juice and zest with olive oil and red wine vinegar made a badass combo for the dressing and cut the earthiness of the beets. The pistachios made a great crunch and the sweet tang of the craisins was a fun addition.

If anyone is in need of a new salad and wants to do something easy, this one is worth it.

These are what I used for the beets. I rinsed them and drained the juices and they worked great.

What a cooking adventure!

[gfguren]

pro hero!bakugou x fem!reader | fluff, suggestive, husband!katsuki, katsuki implied as being taller than reader, implied age (~late 20's, early 30s~), light-hearted bickering, an excuse to write more domestic!kats, 1.8k | cw: cursing, suggestive

-your husband comes home late, soaking wet and a little bit handsy-

Katsuki is late; you hope traffic isn't too bad. Outside your window the sky is overcast, steely shades of grey over a slate canvas. The roads are dyed an inky charcoal, pooling at the surface where rain drip-drip-pours in endless streams.

You've taken up residence in the foyer, between the linen closet at the end of the hall, and the umbrella Katsuki left by the front door this morning. The very same one you reminded him to take with him at breakfast, and twice again before he left in the evening. If you loved him a little bit less, he might listen to you one day.

But you do—love him—right down to his bad habits and stubborn disposition.

So you wait for him the same way you have for years; perched at the breakfast nook in the corner with a warm cup of tea and a paperback that's been gathering dust for half-a-year now at least. The bar table is worn at the edges, legs wobble if you lean too far forward—frankly, you should have gotten rid of it years ago—but it was the first belonging that wasn't yours, or Katsuki's, but ours; a piece you thrifted when you were both still twenty-something and broke.

The years have changed a lot—our table, our bed, our house, our life. Your Katsuki.

—His wife.

The band around your finger is white gold; it clinks when you put the mug to your lips. Honey, ginger. Sweet. Rain hits the window and falls; two trails meet at the middle, and stick to each other like glue. Katsuki would laugh if he found you right now, smiling into your tea like a lovestruck fool.

You let the ceramic rest, turn to page thirty-or-something of a book that you totally-intend-to-finish. An hour passes before you hear the telltale rumble of an engine.

You spot his headlights first, misty pools of sunlight spilling onto the pavement when he pulls into the driveway. It's well past midnight now; Katsuki is a shadow against the porchlight, long strides and a hand over his crown. You have half a mind to bring the umbrella to him, but he's quicker, ascends the four steps to the veranda in two big leaps; you barely register the rustle of keys before he's stepping into the house, pooling rainwater at the welcome mat.

He's soaked at the shoulders, a grumble in his throat when he kneels to unlace his shoes—black leather, designer and sharp, same as the suit jacket around his shoulders. Tailored to fit him just right.

Katsuki's always been handsome, even as a hero in training renting hand-me-down suits from the little mom-and-pop shop down the street. But it really strikes you just how beautiful he is when you look at him now, dressed to the nines. All the years of hard work paying off in more ways than one.

You go a little fuzzy when he lifts his head to catch you staring; red eyes kindling the air and making it hard to breathe. He's the spitting image of a number two hero, just returned from a long night at some fancy-pants gala; sometimes you forget that's exactly what he is. Even more dumbfounded that, somehow, he's yours.

"I know," he grumbles, moving his shoes to the cabinet and meticulously hanging his jacket over the chair to dry. He briefly eyes the umbrella. "I f'rgot, kay?"

So have you, suddenly.

There's a pause and—"I didn't say anything."

He meets you at the table, one hand at the surface and the other at the knot of his tie. "Y've got that look."

You tip you chin to glare at him playfully. "And what 'look' is that, Bakugou Katsuki?"

"Like y'r about t'chew me up." He pulls the fabric strip from around his neck in one fell swoop, pops the first button of his dress shirt with his thumb. Your eyes fall for only a moment—barely a second—but Katsuki grins with the self-awareness of a man who's known you half his life. "Or about t'jump my bones, hah?"

He looks entirely impish in his revelation, ego flaring to rest in his cheeks; you have half a mind to nip at them like candy floss, instead you reach for the cuffs of his button-up, tidy the sleeves one fold over the other until the rainwater and well-kept muscles catch at the seams. You feign a sigh when his stare becomes too insistent to ignore, hand falling to rest at the peaks of his knuckles. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah." A spark of firelight flashes in his eyes, deep carmine and coy; teasing him was so much easier a decade ago. "I'd let'cha."

You roll your eyes. "You're so unsexy, y'know that?"

"Hah," he barks with all the disbelief in the world. "What? Want me t'do that dirty talkin' shit instead? Jump y'r bones right here at the table? D'n think she'll hold up, baby."

He lets a fraction of his weight fall against the corner and the old wood immediately cries out, splintering oak and creaking hinges and the real, immediate threat that the poor thing might actually collapse at your feet.

You spring up defensively. "Katsuki!"

A once neatly-folded towel tumbles from your lap to land at your toes. His gaze falls; grin widens.

"Said y're gonna make me 'deal with it' next time I forgot the stinkin' umbrella, didn't'cha?" His fingers pinch the fat of your cheeks teasingly. "Love me that much, hah?" Your eyes narrow, fingers dive with intent for the space beneath his ribcage. He's quicker, wraps five fingers around your wrist and pulls you in with a hand at the back of your neck. He breathes, warm against the top of your head—"Missed y'tonight."

You hum against his chest, damp fabric sticking to your cheeks, flush and warm with surprise. You can count the number of times he's been this blunt with his affection on one hand; at least twice being in the presence of an empty champagne glass, or five. "Did you drink?" He gruffs at that—the only indication that he heard you at all. "Katsuki?"

"Come with me next time."

You tilt your chin, brow creasing. His head dips at the sight of the first wrinkle, the way it always does when he's trying to change the subject, or sweeten you up, or get his way in any way, really—a habit you must have taught him because you let him get away with it every single time. It's probably why he looks so offended when you pull back suddenly with a click of your tongue.

"That's not an answer."

"Not a drop," he finally says—huffs—with an almost boyish scowl.

You find yourself stifling a laugh, hand over mouth, and he glares, even as you step away to rustle through the linen closet. His eyes are red hot, brow downturned, downright grumpy, only cooling to a simmer when you're toe to toe once more, fresh towel in hand and lightly waving him down to your level. His spine bows, head dips until you're massaging the soft cotton through his hair; you would have had to fight him on this once—years ago—before time weathered his sharp edges, doused the wildfire raging in his heart until he became the man he is now—irritable, arrogant, stubborn, still, but willing—to make amends for who he was before, to extend a hand where he's able, to let you offer him one in return.

"Chose this one on purpose, didn't'cha?" Katsuki's voice is lukewarm, a tepid grumble at the back of his throat, an almost purr when you dip your fingertips against his nape.

"No idea what you're talking about."—but you do. The towel in question, he means, is from the left side of the closet, your side, all soft cotton and fluff; the same ones he refuses to use, for those very same reasons. "Said they 'd'n dry a damn thing' but-" you drape the supposed 'overrated, overpriced pile'a'fluff' around his shoulders to ruffle his bangs, more wily than usual, and barely damp. "Would y'look at that?"

He snorts, hand falling to the small of your back. "Don't get smart."

"Or what?" you keen up at him, at the balls of your feet, tip toes and still barely nose to nose; they bump once on accident, and twice on purpose. "Huh?"

Warm, exasperated breath fans across your cheeks. "Tryna start somethin' t'night, are ya?"

You bat your lashes, head tilting and fingers splaying across the 'v' of his neckline. "Me? Start something?" Your grin betrays your facade. "And what if I am?"

He pulls you in at the waist, holds you steady with one, strong arm, warm lips at your jaw and low, deep voice in your ear. "Better be ready t'finish it, then."

His right hand comes to rest at the back of your thigh, teases the skin right where your skirt ends; gooseflesh blooms all the way up your spine and you shiver. "Who's jumping bones now, huh?" you bark—yap, like a scaredy-pup with it's tail between it's legs—bite lost somewhere between the callouses on Katuski's fingertips and the press of his hips against your own.

You straighten your shoulders to get a good look at the ego washing over his face like miles of trumpet vine. All consuming, a force to be reckoned with. And devastatingly pretty.

"That'd be me, pretty lady," he says, all kinds of smug and annoying.

You hold him with your stare for an entire second—two, just so you can get a real good look at his stupid, handsome face—and then you're pulling him in by the collar, wrinkling the shirt he'll spend too much on dry-cleaning tomorrow. Not that he seems to mind when your tongue meets his, honey mingling with the mint on his breath and making his head swim, all but forgotten when a hand comes to rest at your waist, heated fingertips beneath your sweater, licking softly at your skin.

He walks you back 'til your thighs hit the table—(it rocks, precariously); one of your hands fall against the surface, the other to his heart that thump-thump-jumps when thunder rumbles through the house, and stills. You smile, soft against his lips, thumb tracing the precipice of his collarbone until your fingers can curl around his spine. The next kiss against his mouth is featherlight, barely there; you sigh, contentedly—"I love you."

Katsuki goes a little hazy, eyes the color of early Autumn; the blazing summer sun reduced to a tealight candle, flickering in the palms of your hands. "Yeah," he chokes. And you know just what he means.

You kiss him then, once more, a little more playful this time; mischievous and coy with a cheeky, "—even though you're totally unsexy."

"So help me, y/n, I will howitzer this table."

[mataurin]

Fig and the Cig Figs!!!

[mellosdrawings]

Do you think in the N2 Squad, Jamil will just randomly get a burst of confidence and flirt with Leona and Vil, just for them to turn it around on him and he then gets so flustered he enters Caterpillar Mode™️ (pulls his hood over his face) for a solid hour?

I kept this one in my asks for a long time coz, while I thought it was a good ask and wanted to draw something for it, I am also plagued with the terrible curse of being both aromantic and autistic and struggling a lot with the very concept of ~*flirting*~

So first, gonna thank @aria-faye and @the-fab-fox for their insights and having the patience to explain to me the big strokes of flirting.

And now, I'm gonna quote aria-faye word for word cause he explained Jamil's flirting perfectly well in my opinion :

"I feel like Jamil is just... bad at flirting. He can tease and joke and all that, but when he's doing it with the intention of flirtation, i feel like he stumbles. His version of intentional flirting would probably be just... being overly straightforward. Saying what he's thinking for once."

"I feel like Jamil isn't very charismatic when it comes to flirting, so he isn't saying it [compliments] in any sort of way. Just pointing out a fact, which, to him, is flirting. Because it's not something he'd normally say aloud."

"Here's the thing: I think if they played the flirting game, and if Jamil said something intentionally over-the-top, teasing flirtatious, they [Leona and Vil] would match his energy and do it right back. BUT Jamil would be equipped to volley that back over and over. It's not flirtation that gets him. There's an element of disingenuous in flirting. It's all exaggerated, a bit untrue. It's an act - a mutually agreed-upon act that everyone in the group enjoys, but an act nonetheless. And Jamil is EXCELLENT at acts. He's no blushing flower when it comes to flirting. He would take that stuff all the way to bed if that's where it led him. But compliments? He has no idea how to take compliments. He has such a low opinion of himself for so long that he never learned. Compliments are what make him blush. Not flirting."

"Like, Leona could be like 'Damn Baby, what does that tongue do?' And Jamil would immediately respond by purring 'Come here and find out.' But Leona being like 'You look beautiful today' would have Jamil like "Oh, um. *blushes, pulls hood over his head* Thanks, I guess.'"

"I think something else that would get him flustered is physical affection. Like he gets all hyped up to shakily hold their hands, and they immediately respond by kissing his cheeks and being sweet to him. That would make him blushy too."

"Flirting is basically just manipulation. Jamil knows how to do that. He's really good at that. It might surprise him at first, but if he's the one initiating, he wouldn't do it unless he knew exactly what he was doing. Flirting for real is kind of fake. A teasing dance you do to get to a more intimate set of behaviors. And Jamil is great at this kind of thing. There are a thousand ways to make him blushy if he's not initiating. But if he's initiating, that implies a level of confidence, so the options for making him blushy circles right back around to honesty."

"Leona and Vil flirt by antagonising each other, so it might take them a second to realize that whenever Jamil drops an Honesty Bomb on them like this and speaks plainly, he's flirting. But once they know, Jamil will never know peace again, because they turn it right back on him and compliment him honestly until he's curled up and hiding in his hood and begging them to stop."

(Yes we had a very long discussion about it x))

[handweavers]

my friend had me sit right at the front of the burlesque performance and help catch her clothes when she stripped them off and because of where i was seated the other dancers kept throwing their clothes at me when they'd take them off and at one point i got a silk nightgown directly in my face. my friend said her fellow dancers told her i have a trustworthy face and they felt safe flirting with me for the performance which feels like the highest compliment i could receive in this situation. lot of tulle robes and bras tossed at my head tonight. we live in a beautiful world

[3liza]

when my dad was training troops in Vietnam he would do a magician trick during the tear gas training (the enlisted men have to go in a room full of tear gas with gas masks on to learn to breathe through the mask etc) where he would take a deep breath outside the gas shack and then stride in without a mask on and casually bellow "GOOD WORK MEN! KEEP IT UP!" before strolling back outside

later he bought me a keychain mace spray and because he wasn't sure if it would actually disable an attacker he went outside and tested it on himself to make sure

[kotonni]

ENOUGH.

Enough of Jayce being the only one that gets on his knees, and the only one that gets flustered, and the only one that stutters when nervous.

You think he doesn't have game? You think him naive? You think he's not able to make the greatest minds in Piltover and Zaun combined bend for him? He fucked Mel so good he unbraided her hair first time. This man was in the council for a few weeks and managed to throw Heimerdinger off his seat, reached peace with Silco, and convinced the entire council of Zaun's independence, he snapped Viktor out of the hexcore with a love confession and saved the world with his rizz and you THINK you THINKKKKKK he is the one getting beet red like a teenager in a relationship? Be so fucking for real.

[al-luviec]

I see a funny image on Twitter and think . how do I lego ninjago this

[teanshan]

In theory, I bet He Tian will give Mo his own bedroom. But in practice, it's going to be their bedroom lol

[discordiansamba]

rotating this aoex fantasy AU idea with a more Japanese bent as opposed to the traditional Western fantasy where Shiemi is (100% definitely) a normal village girl who gets lost in the forest one day while gathering herbs and finds herself at a strange manor where a single boy resides. his name is Rin, and though he's excited to see her at first, he changes his tune quickly to trying to get her to leave. when Shiemi says she doesn't know how to get back to the village, he asks a fox to guide her back home.

upon returning to the village, Shiemi learns that the manor is cursed- guarded by a fearsome naga that keeps away anyone who approaches. she finds that very strange, since she didn't see a naga at all when she was there- just Rin and his fox companion, Izumo. despite what she was told, she can't help but remember the lonely smile Rin gave her and ends up finding her way back there on her own.

Rin keeps asking her to leave, but she keeps coming back- and eventually, he just kind of gives up. Shiemi discovers that Rin doesn't live there alone, but that the manor is also occupied by a strange woman named Shura and a cat sidhe named Kuro. Rin doesn't talk much about himself, but the more she speaks to him, the more obvious it is that he's glad for some company. he's friendly and kind, and a great cook!

but one day, she arrives at the manor to find the naga that supposedly guards it. but instead of attacking, it simply hisses a warning that she is to turn around and leave today. Shiemi frowns, about to ask why when she suddenly finds herself swept off her feet and carried into the manor by a boy who looks a lot like Rin- except his hair is a strange white-blue color, and he has the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen.

he's also clearly a demon.

he introduces himself as Rinka, and tells her that he's been dying to meet her all this time. this is how Shiemi comes to learn that the naga (who turns out to be Shura) isn't there to keep people out. she's there to keep Rinka in. Rin was born possessing two hearts- a human one and a demon one, and periodically, the two trade places. Rin and Rinka share the same body and set of memories, but they have their own personalities and wills-

-and the exact same taste in girls.

Rinka calls himself a monster, and proclaims that he's going to keep her there until Rin wakes up again- but he still lets her go in the end, when she takes his hands and promises him she'll come back to see him too. she's stunned by her friend's secret, but after actually talking to Rinka, she wonders if Rin and Rinka are really as different as they same at first glance.

(or: Rin thinks his existence is a curse. Shiemi's here to prove that wrong- and maybe break some actual curses along the way.)

[mewtwoandme]

That last ask made me imagine Gwen saying that to Jericho.

"Babe, would you drink me if I was-" NO!! BRAIN, STOP!!! CEASE!!! XD 😏

Sorry I couldn't help it...the intrusive thoughts won

[comatosebunny09]

Reading a delicious, feet-kicking, giddy-laughing reader-insert fic, and then suddenly seeing,

“You blushed/flushed a bright red.”

“He ran his fingers through your soft, silky hair.”

“He licked your taut stomach.”

[tooboredtothinkofaname]

[maretriarch]

(at random park)

connor: look its one of those 80s mcdonalds playground toys

me, immediately: oh its the fillet of fish one. it has the head of a burger but the body of a fish

connor: wow i think you're right

me: of course im right

[columboscreens]