#understeep

[mr-jack-letterman]

Past Dinner

Future Dinner

(click for better quality)

I love making my ocs suffer/j

Sidenote it might be hard to see, but In the first pic Gaster (Chai) is signing "late" to Sans (Hibiscus) and Hibiscus is signing "sorry" back to him NSNND.

I love my silly ass tea skeletons.

The art is kinda old, but if you wanna know more about where these goobers come from, check out this post!

[creativitycache]

ADHD Hack

For when you’re nauseous, like recovering from a cold or experiencing a pregnancy.

Ginger is good for helping settle stomachs, right? And fresh ginger is the best, yeah? Especially in some hot water with honey & lemon.

But fresh ginger you have to grate or cut and then clean your area and use up all of it before it goes bad. Hassle. ADHD tax payment likely.

Powdered ginger runs the risks of being stale and not having much oomf. Ginger sodas run the risk of being shrinkflated until they don’t contain any actual ginger anymore.

But crystallized ginger? That bitch is your LIFESAVER.

You can make it yourself but also fuck that. Buy a box of it at the grocery store, it’s shelf stable for years.

Feeling bad? Pop one of the slices into hot water, add honey, squeeze lemon. Let steep for however long it takes you to flop back into bed and/or the water to cool to drinkable temp. It literally does not matter, you can’t oversteep this shit and if you understeep it then you fish it out of the bottom of your mug once you drink everything and munch on that slice.

Boom, pure ginger almost as good as fresh for potency and better than fresh because there’s zero clean up and you never overpay for it rotting somewhere.

[flummoxthepigeons]

To Love Lucy Morgan

Her voice is tea,

Deep and steeped for long,

Elegant and rich.

I’ve never enjoyed tea quite like that,

But when it’s flowing from her lips,

I cannot get enough.

She tells me her name;

‘Lucy Morgan,’ she speaks,

Soft and refined,

And so common,

for such a magnificent person.

Her name slips my mind,

So I don’t talk to her for a week.

I think it’d be criminal,

To approach a rose without knowing its name,

Because I’m sure,

Her name is just as beautiful as her.

When I rediscover it - Lucy Morgan,

It fumbles in my mouth.

I cannot say one without the other,

As if lacking one part diminishes its beauty.

So when I speak, it’s wrong.

Perhaps it’s because I’m frightfully common,

With an accent like bricks instead of lace,

That I come out with ‘Mucy.’

A harsh ‘M’ and an overextended ‘O.’

Lucy Morgan doesn’t mind.

She’s ‘Mucy’ to me now.

She’s never had a proper nickname, she says.

‘Lucy’ is short for ‘Lucille,’

(Of which any other spelling is a crime)

But everybody always calls her Lucy,

Except for me.

I call her Mucy, and life is sweet.

We enjoy debating each other,

Being so different in mind.

We always debate how tea is best made.

She thinks it’s deep and steeped for long,

Just a splash of milk and piping hot.

I prefer the sweeter things in life.

I think tea needs sugar,

I think Lucy Morgan’s hair is golden,

I think Lucy Morgan’s eyes are oceans.

I think I am in love with Lucy Morgan.

I think a lot of things, I think all of the time.

It’s rather hard to get my mind to shut up.

I’ll fall into these horrible little circles,

Where I’ll think about how I’m thinking about thinking about thinking.

Lucy Morgan helps my mind quiet.

She enjoys metaphors,

I think them stupid.

Saying what you mean,

Directly and unapologetically,

is an art itself.

She enjoys poetry,

And I despise the art.

Flamboyant speech on a simple matter,

Which, unless given rhyme or consistent organisation,

Is just a fancy, prose-filled story.

Besides, there’s nothing in the world,

That can’t be expressed in but a few words.

Nothing is complex enough to need a poem.

Lucy Morgan knows I love her,

I know she loves me, too.

I ask her to be mine in a horribly comical way,

Something so unapologetically me,

That if she says no, then I know it’s not to be.

She says yes, accepting me for me, and life is sweet.

We like different music, but that’s okay.

We like different shows, but that’s okay.

We like different fashion, but that’s okay.

Nothing about us is at all similar,

But she is happy, and that’s all I ever want for her.

Wherever I can, I’ll make her a cup of tea.

It’s never perfect; a bit too much milk,

The teabag understeeped,

And my kettle never runs quite hot enough.

But that’s okay, she enjoys it anyway.

‘It’s the thought that counts.’

I love her smile, delicate and warm.

She’s always almost smiling,

Contrasting my resting scowl.

She is the rose while I am a thorn,

Intertwined and one, but ever so different.

I find myself talking a lot.

She likes hearing me talk, and I like making her happy.

I’ll talk about nothing and everything,

To fill any and all silence.

I wish I could hear her talk more, too.

We, as ourselves, are ironically separate people.

Life separates us further.

We cling onto eachother, as tight as we can,

Wishing we could just melt into one.

Life is sweet, whenever Lucy Morgan is here.

Lucy Morgan is like a cup of tea,

Made of water and milk and sugar,

An understeeped teabag discarded nearby.

The heat is nice, but that’s easy to lose,

And she thinks being lost is rather romantic.

I sip her music,

I drink her shows,

I swallow her fashion,

But I think she drowns in me.

I’d never drown - I’ve experienced far more bitter tastes,

Than Lucy Morgan’s sweet flavour.

I don’t call her ‘Mucy’ much anymore.

The world has adopted that name,

And I call her things far more special;

Dearest, love and darling.

These words are hers, and they make her happy, so life is sweet.

The flow of life turns the cup into a flood.

I know I’ll never drown,

But It’s all I can do to keep afloat.

I know that Lucy Morgan is drowning,

And I know I cannot save her.

I stay unapologetically myself,

Stagnant sugar in a tea-stained wave,

While Lucy drowns in lukewarm milk,

Moving along to life’s current.

Her life is sweet under the wave.

My life cannot move if I am to keep Lucy’s happy.

I try to gain new hobbies, but they’re lost to the current.

I try to reconnect with old ones, but they’re washed away, too.

I begin to feel detached from all I do,

But it is not Lucy’s fault; she did not ask me to do so.

I begin to lose the threads of myself.

I hold harder and stronger onto Lucy.

I drop tethers of myself in order to tighten my grip on her.

When did she become just Lucy?

I’ve never been a strong person, my grip on it all begins to falter.

I begin to lose sight of myself, of her, of life,

Of the meaning of this dumb metaphor.

In the rushing current of life,

I lose sight of Lucy.

I forget to message her,

And I don’t bother her,

Because I’m sure her life is sweet.

No, wait, what?

No, I made her life sweet, didn’t I?

Doesn’t she lose that sweetness without me?

Why did she choose to ignore me?

I’m blind to my own faults.

We’ve been in love for a year when we first argue.

She can’t say what she means, directly and unapologetically.

I can, and it’s inappropriate for the situation.

Before, we’ve always discussed things maturely,

Keeping each others’ thoughts and feelings in mind.

This is new territory, and we’re both desperately lost.

We never quite find our way back.

Silence, once filled with deep chatter,

Is filled with sweet kisses.

Kisses begging her to love me as she did before,

Kissing the joy back into Us.

Her lips taste like milky tea, sweet and cold.

Wait, no, that’s wrong again, isn’t it?

I look into the teapot that is our relationship.

I vivisect the ingredients.

I see all the sugar and milk that slipped through the cracks,

Tainting the tea with impurity.

It tastes like how I take my tea.

It’s not life that tastes sweet.

My Love, she tells me that her life is sweet.

My Dear, she says she’s happy still.

My Darling is lying, but I’ve always thought of lies as beautiful.

An intricate spiders’ web of deceit.

I let her keep her facade.

I know that that’s wrong.

I tell myself that that is wrong.

But I want her to be happy,

And I don’t think she realises the issue is me.

God, it’s selfish, but I don’t want to end it.

I identify the problems,

And I try find solutions.

I add salt to the tea to dampen the sweet.

I drown it in water to combat the milk.

I rip the teabag so its leaves fill the tea.

The tea is a mess, and it still runs cold.

Oh god, what have I done?

I rush to the microwave and put the mess-that-was-once-tea inside.

There’s not enough time to heat it to boil.

The warmth it gives is a pleasantry,

A reminder of how our love was once a rich, hot cup of tea.

When it begins, I know what is happening.

The tea is inedible.

It fits neither of our palettes now.

I made it. I always make the tea.

I make Lucy throw it down the drain.

The thorns pushed into the rose,

So they have to be clipped.

I know the roses name better than my own,

but I don’t know what I am to call it.

Extended metaphors are stupid, anyway.

Poems are stupid, too.

In our year together, She never managed to convince me otherwise.

When it’s all over and done with,

I go home, and make myself a cup of tea.

Teabag, unsteeped.

Four sugars.

Half-filled with milk.

I let it sit,

Until it, too, runs cold.

[soraeia]

Self-care coach: Alright. Repeat after me. This year, we are no longer pouring from an empty cup.

Alli: *tilts head in confusion*

Alli: But…you don’t pour FROM cups, you pour INto them. You pour drinks from pitchers…

Self-care coach: That’s not—

Alli: Or pots, if you’re making hot tea…

Self-care coach: Miss Allisae———

Alli: Unless you mean I pour tea that’s understeeped? *small, offended gasp* I would never! >:’c

Self-care coach: *facepalms*

[jaggialliance]

understeeped my fucking tea so now i'm just drinking water that faintly smells like flowers

[youreviltwin]

oohoo!! okay @aidlvx !!!

so fun fact squeezing your teabag actually releases much more bitter tannins so if you want a sweeter plain brew you want to mess with the teabag as little as possible!! fish it out after 2 min, longer than 3 min and itll start getting bitter too, and if you want it Stronger but not bitter you can up your water temp as long as its not past boiling, you can cover your cup while it steeps, or you can always use extra teabags. i personally can taste the difference between a squeezed-out-the-teabag cup and a left-the-teabag-be cup or an oversteeped vs understeeped vs properly steeped cup, i think esp if youre drinking it black you oughta be careful about that, but if you want a stronger cup imho its easier to just add the extra teabags

if youre drinking plain tea i recommend getting Loose Leaf not only because loose leaf has a fuller/purer flavor than bagged but because loose leaf teas tend to be higher quality. hand in hand with that teabags are often a blend of (cheap) black teas and most all teabags taste similar, where loose leaf has more variety and you can find your perfect cup thats less astringent or has a smoky aftertaste or a berry undertone. that whole world is very similar to coffee blends and wine varieties. obv your budget/tastes should decide your choices but thats my humble opinion. ive also heard that letting the leaves have More Room to steep improves the flavor, but i cannot verify that personally.

if, however, you are drinking tea with milk and sugar may i recommend a London Fog (earl grey tea with 1 tsp lavender per 8 oz, some milk and sugar, and a dash of vanilla) or perhaps even some homemade chai if you want to invest in some spices (crush one green cardamom pod, a stick of cinnamon, 1/4 tsp whole black pepper, and 1/4 tsp ground ginger then boil in 1-2 c water. once boiling, add 1-2 teabags/1-2 tsp loose leaf tea, let steep for 2 minutes, then remove tea. now were gonna add milk, enough to bring the liquid to 3 cups total, so if you had 1 cup water itll be 2 cups milk and vice versa. let it simmer until it reaches your desired thickness and serve with sugar) theres absolutely nothing wrong with a classic cuppa, black or milky or sweet or not, but sometimes its fun to shake things up! tea is a whole world of beverages my friend! explore! expirement!

pinkies up!

Dunno if bobbing the teabag actually helps the tea steep faster but it sure is fun to feel a part of something

[violetgarlends]

I think Xie Ying should have a tea time and force her parents and Wu Ming to participate. She will NOT except any excuses. Guoshi is going to test her on tea etiquette tomorrow and she needs to practice!

Cue those three sitting at a low table, 2/3 glaring at each other and restraining from hissing at each other while 1/3 is proudly watching his daughter figure out the proper pouring posture, helping her with lifting the pot and reminding her on the pouring order: older first, younger last.

Of course this then stumps her because she doesn't know who the oldest is. So she goes with ranking. Baba first, then Mama, then Wu Ming and then her herself.

Babygirl is so proud of herself. Feng Xin is proud of her, Xie Lian doesn't have the heart to tell her it's understeeped, and Wu Ming is wondering how tf did he get here

She should!!!! That’s so funny. I wonder why she decided to bring Wu Ming in, when he’s generally pretty uninterested in her. Maybe Xie Lian suggested it. I love the image of grumpy, emo Wu Ming having to sit and play princess tea party with his boss/crush’s daughter.

I feel like Feng Xin wants so badly to be able to enjoy this, and help her practice her etiquette, but having Wu Ming there makes him so annoyed, especially when he’ll make snarky little comments at him, always subtle enough that Xie Ying can’t understand them. And Wu Ming probably doesn’t appreciate having to be around Xie Lian’s wife and daughter.

Xie Lian is having a great time though. Good for him. He definitely has no right to tell her that her tea is under steeped

I wonder how close she got with the birth order. We know Wu Ming is younger than Feng Xin and Xie Lian, but I’ve always wondered who’s younger out of the two of them

[cornedbeefdash]

The Friendly Toast, Boston MA

(actually december 1st 2023)

two eggs over easy, corned beef hash, home fries. they had cholula on the table (major plus). eggs were cooked perfectly, gooey, golden, good. mixed it in with the hash. wish the hash was crispier, but it had a good flavor to it. the home fries were good, if a bit underseasoned -- nothing salt and pepper and cholula can't fix. was very happy.

coffee not great, even for diner coffee. watery, understeeped.

river got avocado toast that looked really good (but i can't really eat avocado woof!)

we talked a lot about how the decor misses the mark. it tries to be kitschy like a rural diner, but is lacking unity (and the ceiling is industrial as fuck). diners that have a weird theme normally have that theme because the owner just so happens to have a lot of tchotchkes with a particular theme they don't want in their house anymore. friendly toast is like... cowboy, gambling, 50s nostalgia, pop art... all together? very clearly second hand, but from a bunch of different first hands. near miss.

good food.

immediate edit: oh yea also river got a hot cocoa that was SOOOOOO good it had the thickest whipped cream ever, definitely the highlight of the meal, can't believe i forgot

[thethingsnerd]

This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut

“Your input is not necessary.”

It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.

Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.

It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.

Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.

"I didn't need help."

"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."

"No."

"No?"

"You were out of rhythm."

"I was not-"

"You're throwing me off."

She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.

The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.

"Dick! Tell Tim that-"

"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"

"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"

"You should be embarrassed-"

"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"

Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."

Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.

Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.

He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.

Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.

Famous last words.

Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.

"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"

"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"

"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"

"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.

"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"

"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"

"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"

......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.

Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.

"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.

"Yes."

Dick decides to cut his losses.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."

"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.

Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.

He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.

Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.

Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.

The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.

It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.

Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.

__________

Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.

"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"

Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.

"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"

Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."

"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.

"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.

"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."

Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"

He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.

"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."

Donna smiles at him.

She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.

"So which straw broke the camel's back?"

"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."

"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."

Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.

"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."

"And you made the best decision."

Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."

"They have terrible decision making skills."

Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.

"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."

"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.

"You," Dick says.

Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."

Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."

"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."

"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.

Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."

Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.

__________

Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.

"I don't want to impose, Donna."

"Have you ever considered what I want?"

Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"

"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."

There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.

Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.

He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.

He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.

She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.

It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.

"Did I get it right?"

"Did you make it with love?"

"Of course."

"Then you got it perfectly right."

Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.

He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.

It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.

Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.

At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.

He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.

He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.

Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.

"Donna."

"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.

"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.

"Do tell."

"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"

Donna snorts. "A billion?"

"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.

Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.

"Lay it on me, Robin."

"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."

Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-

Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?

"Richard John Grayson."

"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."

I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."

Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.

"Good decision?" Donna asks.

"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.

"Donna, do you like my decision?"

"I really really do."

__________

When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.

It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.

Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.

Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.

They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.

Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”

Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.

“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“Go home.”

“No.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.

“Why not?”

“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”

“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.

“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”

“Your team is there.”

“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”

“You can’t quit-“

“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”

It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.

Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.

The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.

__________

Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.

“You’re hanging out with people again!”

“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”

“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.

It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.

“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”

“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.

“Why did we disband?”

“Because we grew up?”

“Terrible decision.”

“Adulthood is overrated.”

“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”

“Nah.” “NO!”

Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”

“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”

Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.

A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.

Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?

Garth smiles brighter than the moon.

The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.

They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’

After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[mr-jack-letterman]

The undertale brainrot is back 😭

Haven't drawn these sillies since before I got my drawing tablet, my style has definitely improved a lot since NSNSJS

(click for better quality)

For context, this is my old Undertale au from last year called Understeep where Sans and Paps run a tea shop in snowdin, this link will take u to my old post about that if ur interested (be warned, the art is quite old 😭).

I love my sons, they are very silly NDNDND.

God I miss undertale Aus. I'm probably gonna end up redrawing a bunch of my old undertale art at this rate JSNND.

[steadfastcommerce]

making tea does not take 6 hours, i repeat, 2 minutes tea are better.

Does this qualify as harassment

[eyfey]

So in a moment of streaming induced madness a few weeks ago I ordered some uhhhh "Homestuck Teas" and now I am trying them.

Second tea is Kanaya Maryam: I actually ended up brewing it multiple times because I thought I was understeeping it.

Smells very nice, as most tea do: this one is a coconut chocolate and vanilla chai so I figured it go great with cream n sugar.

The first time I brewed it the flavors were very light (still good tho!) so the second time I doubled the amount of tea and the steeping time but still very light!

I even tried it a third time without any additions thinking maybe the cream overpowered it, but no: it's just a very light tea. You can def taste the coconut but the spices and the chocolate are very very subtle. (I think I liked it best plain)

It's not a bad tea but I probably won't buy it again.

Had it with the last piece of my earl grey tea 'cause that felt like a Kanaya appropriate dessert (rip cake u will be missed)

Link to the blend is in the replies if anyone is interested.

[rose-in-a-fisted-glove]

In other news, I have enough taste back that the current lacking amount is just annoying. I would like all my tea to stop tasting understeeped or expired when I know it isn't

[baejax-the-great]

For the DADWC, A perfectly brewed cup of tea.

Thank you! Have some Dorian x Varric as I imagine them hanging out in DA4 @dadrunkwriting

~

Dorian had missed good tea. Those long days in the Ferelden mountains drinking whatever those kitchen ladies saw fit to send out had had him aching for home. Strangely, they were never thankful when he offered to explain to them how to brew a proper cup of tea, and it didn’t matter, really, since his method involved magic. Heating up the water just so for the amount of time it took to quietly recite his favorite poem by Rufinus, removing the tea leaves, stirring in the honey—and the honey in Tevinter just tasted better, happier bees perhaps—then cooling it down with a flick of his wrist and inhaling the perfectly distilled aroma of the leaves.  

And that wasn’t even touching on the difference in quality of tea leaves available in the middle of southern nowhere.

Since returning to Tevinter, he had spent a portion of each day perfecting an already excellent procedure. Today his parlor smelled of roses and mint, an interesting flavor combination that called for just the tiniest portion of sugar. He dropped it in, stirred quickly with his spoon which made a pleasant tinkling sound against the delicate porcelain, and took a sip.

Just as he’d suspected: perfection.

Varric ambled in just after he’d set the tea cup in its saucer. That poor man had no taste for tea at all, his tastebuds presumably having all been burnt away after years of tavern food served piping hot to make up for the lack of flavor. Cheap tea leaves, over-boiled and steeped for too long served Varric just fine during their trips across the South together. On one memorable evening, Dorian even saw him dump some of his flask into it. And while Dorian did love a cup of tea and alcohol of almost all varieties, not to mention skirting around convention, that was a sin he could never reproduce for himself.

In a strange way, he’d been impressed.

But the thing about a perfectly brewed cup of tea, Dorian reflected as Varric reported on the news of the day, was that it would never match even the worst swill when that swill was shared with a friend.

“Well,” Varric said, bouncing on the balls of his feet and eyeing the teapot, “I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink with me over at the tavern, but I see you already have—"

“This?” Dorian asked with a gesture toward his teacup. “Pure rubbish. Understeeped and over-sugared. Practically undrinkable.”

“Oh. The smell is—”

“Perfectly awful, isn’t it?” he interrupted with a smile, “Come, a mug of wine at that dreary dive you prefer would be far preferable. Wipe the memory of this refuse right out of my mind.”

Varric grinned as Dorian swept out the door with him. The thing about knowing how to brew a perfect cup of tea was that he could always do it again later. A Varric—well, perhaps one day he’d even teach him how to appreciate it.

[butterflypeaflowertea]

thoughts on tea 🏃🏽‍♀️☕️💐

personally, i like taking honey in my tea instead of sugar. my favorite is wildflower honey, because it’s sweet but not the darkest honey out there, which is good because darker honeys can be somewhat overpowering when stirred into tea. special honeys like orange blossom honey are also not preferred because they have pretty distinguishable flavors of their own, & tend to clash with the flavor of the tea, especially if it’s a lighter one

that being said, although i like honey in my black + green + herbal teas, i take sugar in my especially floral teas because i don’t want the floral taste to be smothered by honey. it’s best to just highlight floral teas with sugar, which is sweet but doesn’t have much of a notable taste otherwise

peppermint in the morning + afternoon, linden or chamomile later in the evening + night

be wary of chai lattes from coffeeshops... stick with ones you’ve tried and already enjoy, because sometimes you’ll try a different kind only to take a sip of a drink that tastes like frothy, sugary soap water. yes i am speaking from personal experience :-(

steep black tea for longer than u normally would if you plan on adding milk ☕️ it is SO easy to make your tea extremely light when u add your milk, and if your tea is already understeeped, it’ll be made even weaker when milk is added and will taste downright unpleasant. in contrast, black teas that have been steeped well or even oversteeped will always taste warm and rich with milk. so make sure u steep it for longer than u might think is necessary

seasonal teas are SO fun and so good. u may not need pumpkin cinnamon tea in your house at all times but when autumn rolls around by GOD u need to have a box or tin of it. same with special winter blends ❄️

finishing random household tasks (doing the dishes, folding laundry) is made much more enjoyable w/ a cup of tea to sip from incrementally. HOWEVER, it is very easy to forget the existence of that cup and let it go cold as you’re focused on your task so like. keep an eye out for it. i’ve lost countless cups of tea in this manner

rose tea feels SO luxurious 🌹 it doesn’t even cost THAT much but it makes u feel very fancy and fine. same with tea w/ lavender

[theultimatepomegranatestan]

tea pt 2

just learned i likely understeeped my peach (herbal) tea. fuck