#very milkshakey

[miinteaa]

Dazai being all cutsey with a milkshake while simultaneously giving Kunikida an aneurysm

[katiekatdragon27]

WOAH! MIDNIGHT postings of OCs on MAIN??? Crazy.

After watching ONE, it got me thinking about making my own series/ revamping some old characters to be important in something. No idea if it’ll be comics or animated, (cuz I have literally no idea about what voices each one has) but I do wanna make it. It’ll be more “adult” I guess in the content presented, but it can be enjoyed by all ages for the most part, maybe.

The show is going to be called SPIRIT. (“Whoever has the best spirit will win!”)

Basically, a bunch of objects ranging in age from 16 to 24 wake up in a world called “The Borderlands” with no memories of their past lives whatsoever. With a strong sense of deja vu, some chronic pains, and a host literally nicknamed “Sketchy”, these 12 objects get to compete, both willing and unwilling, for a notebook that can grant whatever the user writes or draws in it.

However, things fall apart when when two individuals manage to cross over the mountains and see the world for what it is.

I’m not going to say much more on the plot cuz spoilers, but I will post the refs of the three characters featured here under the cut, along with some more information on each of them.

First up is Ribbon, who later changes her name to Spool. She’s the main character and is sort of the audience stand-in despite being a jerk. With dreams of grandeur, he is willing to claw his way to the top no matter what it takes. But maybe having a grounded friend can keep her down to Earth?

Next up is Fragrance. He’s a quiet guy who’s more of a follower than a leader, but every good leader needs a first follower. He is best friends with Spool and is her ride-or-die (mostly) partner in crime. The two are always together, but that bond will cause problems in the future, that’s for sure.

Last up is Milkshakey. He’s the cocky and arrogant leader of the opposing team. He loves getting into Spool’s hair and just being an annoying rival. Despite his demeanor, he has a very fragile opinion of himself and just wants to be loved by many.

More on the way if there’s interest surrounding these guys and their story, but other than that, have a good day bros :)

[botherkupo]

A Lie for a Lie (chapter 15)

Summary: "Because Chat Noir is dating Marinette." Or in which Lila lies, Adrien panics, and Marinette gets stuck being Chat Noir's fake girlfriend.

(You can also read this on FFN or AO3. Pen name is Boogum)

First Date

"Everyone is staring," Marinette grumbles.

Adrien, clad in the leather of his superhero persona, loops his arm around her waist and tugs her against his side. "Having them stare is the whole point of this, isn't it?" he murmurs in her ear.

"It's still awkward."

He makes a humming sound of agreement. It's not like he's unaware of the blatant stares being directed their way. Some bold souls have even approached to ask tactless questions about his relationship with Marinette and the lurid cheating article. Adrien is grateful for all his father's strict discipline and public image training. It's the only thing that's stopped him from whacking said people over the head with his staff. Poor Marinette hasn't been faring much better.

This won't do. If they're going to go on these dates, they might as well have fun.

"Hey," he says, pausing so that she's also forced to stop.

She looks up at him questioningly.

"Wanna ditch the romantic walk?"

Her lips twitch. "Are you suggesting we ditch our own date?"

"More like switch it up a little. Alya's idea was nice and all, but I'm sure we can do better."

"Oh? And how do you suggest we do that?"

"Well, there's this café I've been wanting to go to. Have you heard of Extra Life Café?"

Her eyes light up. "The gaming one?"

"That's it. We could get some food and—"

"Yes!"

He laughs and pulls her closer, bringing out his baton. "Alright. Next stop is Extra Life Café."

oOo

She sits opposite him at the little table and sips her strawberry milkshake. Adrien twirls his straw between his fingers, watching her with a half-smile. It's not like he can help it. Her hair is different again tonight—a sleek bun adorned with a pink ribbon. She's removed her coat and scarf to reveal a high-collared tunic dress with tights. It's very cosy, very cute, and very Marinette.

"What?" she says, tilting her head.

"Your hair looks nice like that."

Colour dusts her cheeks. "Oh. Um, thanks."

"Though I like the pigtails as well," he adds with a wink.

She leans forward and points her straw at him like sword. "You, Chat Noir, are a terrible flirt."

"Is it so wrong for a guy to compliment his girlfriend?"

She opens and closes her mouth, no doubt realising that she can't point out she's only his fake girlfriend. Too many people watching, too many ears listening in. Her lips purse for a split-second before she plasters on a brilliant smile and even flutters her eyelashes at him. "Of course not. Thanks, pookiebear."

He bites the inside of his cheek so he won't laugh. That would give everything away. Marinette, sensing her victory, smiles smugly and sucks the cream and strawberry milkshake off the straw. Some of the milkshakey cream gets stuck to the corner of her lips and drips down her chin.

"Oh," he says. "You've got, ah, on your face …"

"Huh?"

"Cream."

"What? Where?"

He leans forward, close enough to count the tiny freckles on her nose. "Here, let me."

Gently, he wipes the cream and milkshake off before licking his finger clean. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers. Pink blooms on her face, matching her ribbon, and a few camera flashes go off in the background. Adrien goes very still. Only now has he realised what he has just done, what it must have looked like.

More flashes. More pictures being taken.

His face heats and heats and heats.

"Um, it's all gone now," he mumbles, and jerkily sits back against his chair.

"T-thanks."

They both avoid looking at each other. He's painfully conscious of the strawberry taste lingering on his tongue. Pink and sweet. His shoulders tense and he grabs his straw and takes a long drink of his chocolate milkshake, letting any hint of strawberry blend and fade away. Marinette mirrors him. Their date has suddenly become a competition to see who can finish their drink first, even as they sneak glances at each other from under their lashes.

A unified, slurpy crescendo signals a draw as they both get to the dregs of their milkshakes.

"Alright!" Marinette declares, standing up with her hands pressed against the table. "Enough wasting time. You ready to get your butt kicked at video games or not?"

His smile trips into life. He could have hugged her then. Her cheeks are still a bit pink, but she's determined to press on from the Milkshake Incident, and he's more than happy to help her. So he stands up and looks down at her from his greater height. "You're on, princess."

oOo

They play games for as long as they can. There's laughter and smiles and silly taunts. She does better on the multiplayer and fighting ones, but he finally gets to one-up her score on some of the old one-player arcade games. Not for nothing has he spent most of his life shut in his house with only Chloe for the odd bit of company. Still, the true battle is the dance off.

A crowd gathers around them, cheering on or taking pictures, but it doesn't feel as intrusive and stifling now. Adrien is having fun, and he can tell that Marinette is as well.

"Alright, I admit it," she says, leaning against him and trying to catch her breath once the final song is over. "You're a good dancer."

"Told you."

She pokes him in the chest. "But don't think you'll hold the title of rhythm champion for long. Next time I'll be the winner."

"I'm sorry, princess, but this is one title I don't plan on handing over to you."

"Like you'll have a choice." She smiles and flicks his bell. "Pookiebear."

He leans down so he's closer to her level. "Oh, I dunno. You'll have to learn to keep up with me first."

"That won't be a problem."

"You sure? I mean I am a superhero."

"Yet this ordinary girl still kicked your butt at all those other games."

They're so close now their noses are almost touching. So close he can smell apple and flowers and a hint of strawberry. His heart beats faster (just from the dancing, of course), and he has an odd urge to keep teasing, to keep leaning into her space.

A camera flash goes off.

Adrien blinks and pulls back, even as she does the same. Right. They still have an audience. A growing one, in fact. The speculative chatter is a constant hum, as are the expectant and curious looks cast their way. When a few dare to approach to ask more unwanted questions, Marinette tugs on his arm.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she mutters.

"Definitely."

He scoops her up bridal-style and grins at the crowd of onlookers. "Sorry, folks. Show's over. I've gotta get my princess home."

A groan escapes Marinette and she thunks her head against his chest as he carries her out of the building. Phone cameras follow them every step of the way.

"You're so dramatic," she complains. "Did you really have to do that?"

"A good show always needs a good ending. At least now they'll have something to talk about."

She thunks her head against his chest again. "Just take me home, you silly cat."

He laughs and holds her more securely. "As the princess wishes."

[icewindandboringhorror]

my favorite ice cream flavor is a three way tie between mint chocolate chip without the chocolate chips, butter pecan without the pecans, and rum raisin without the raisins,, and I think that alone gives some good insight into my general temperament as a person:  vaguely difficult, scattered interests, unnecessarily complicated and overly specific at all times

[zazzyzoo]

Cookin' with wrestlers! Do you need a unique snack for your Royal Rumble watch party? Miss Addy Walker has just the thing for you! Take a moment to learn a little bit about her cultural roots before you try out this special (and very simple) recipe from her ancestral homeland.

Addy, as any American Girl fan knows, was named after her great-grandmother, Aduke, who was kidnapped by slavers and brought to the United States. Aduke is a name from the Yoruba people of West Africa. Today's recipe is for a staple of Yoruban cuisine called Akara, which are basically black-eyed pea fritters. Crispy, quick to make, and perfect for entertaining, Akara originated in West Africa and are now common in Brazil, having been brought there through the slave trade. Today, it's street food; originally, it was prepared in conjunction with special ceremonies, such as military celebrations or funerals.

What's really nice about Akara for our purposes is that it's authentic, but super-easy and cheap. There's absolutely nothing wild or wacky about the ingredients or the preparation. Addy's sous chefs made a couple tiny modifications, but essentially, the recipe they put together is, to their knowledge, right in step with what you'd get from a street vendor in Nigeria. And the best part is, you'll LOVE it! It's delicious and great for sharing. Make a bunch of Akara for your spread of Royal Rumble edibles. SO much cooler than a bag of chips, and so easy! You're less than an hour away from a taste of Yoruba culture!

1 can black-eyed peas, drained

1 & 1/2 tbsp minced onion

1/8 tsp garlic powder

1/8 tsp ground cayenne red pepper

1 tbsp flour

Pinch of salt

Vegetable oil (amount will vary; see recipe below)

In a medium bowl, mash up the black-eyed peas. You could use a blender or food processor, but you can do this manually in just 2-3 minutes. Why give yourself a clunky bladed thingy to wash when a large fork or meat tenderizing mallet works just as well?

Anyway, mash it up until it's a chunky, gloppy consistency. You don't want it runny or milkshakey. It needs to be able to basically hold its shape, like mashed potatoes. Here's what you want:

Now mix in the onions, garlic powder, cayenne, flour, and salt. Set aside.

Pour the vegetable oil into a frying pan until you have a pool about 1/4" deep. The exact amount you need depends on the diameter of your pan. You can use a small pan, and therefore less oil, in which case you can make the Akara in batches, as Seth and Alexa did.

Heat the oil between medium and medium-high. Once you see a tiny bit of steam rising from the oil, it's hot enough. Place little blobs of the black-eyed pea mixture (about a tablespoon each) in the hot oil, gently flattening the top. The bottom half of each blob will be in the oil; the top half will be unsubmerged. Let cook for a couple minutes, or until visibly golden-brown, and then flip them over. The second side requires a little less time. Here's a visual of one that's done on the first side, and a couple that were just plopped in the oil:

As the Akara finish, place them on a paper-towel-lined plate to drain off excess oil. Serve hot with whatever dipping sauces you like. This recipe yields about a dozen Akara.

Akara have a nice texture and flavor on their own. Crispy on the outside, smooth and creamy on the inside, flavored like beany hash browns. Yet they're mild enough that they can accept a wide variety of dipping sauces. So for entertaining, you can set out a bunch of sauces and let people pick their favorite. Dijon mustard, ranch dressing, anything tomatoey... maybe something cheesy, too. I can't see any bad combinations here. _______________________________________

Interesting note: Traditionally, Akara contain minced hot peppers. Seth and Alexa went with ground cayenne instead, because laziness. But the effect of mild heat is basically the same.

Also, Akara are usually spherical, like hush puppies, rather than in patties, as the above recipe prescribes. That's because Seth and Alexa totally botched the sphere-style. You're supposed to deep-fry these things, submerging them completely in hot oil. But when our heroes tried that, their Akara melted into a gunky, soupy mess. Take a look, if you dare:

So they switched gears at the last moment and attempted the shallow-pool-of-oil method. It worked, albeit necessitating a flatter shape. But hey, that just means you don't need to use as much oil as you normally would, so you're welcome!

[unsettlingshortstories]

Click-Clack the Rattlebag

Neil Gaiman (2015)

"Before you take me up to bed, will you tell me a story?”

“Do you actually need me to take you up to bed?” I asked the boy.

He thought for a moment. Then, with intense seriousness, “Yes, actually I think I do. It’s because of, I’ve finished my homework, and so it’s my bedtime, and I am a bit scared. Not very scared. Just a bit. But it is a very big house, and lots of times the lights don’t work and it’s sort of dark.”

I reached over and tousled his hair.

“I can understand that,” I said. “It is a very big old house.” He nodded. We were in the kitchen, where it was light and warm. I put down my magazine on the kitchen table. “What kind of story would you like me to tell you?”

“Well,” he said, thoughtfully. “I don’t think it should be too scary, because then when I go up to bed, I will just be thinking about monsters the whole time. But if it isn’t just a little bit scary then I won’t be interested. And you make up scary stories, don’t you? I know she says that’s what you do.”

“She exaggerates. I write stories, yes. Nothing that’s really been published, yet, though. And I write lots of different kinds of stories.”

“But you do write scary stories?”

“Yes.”

The boy looked up at me from the shadows by the door, where he was waiting. “Do you know any stories about Click-Clack the Rattlebag?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Those are the best sorts of stories.”

“Do they tell them at your school?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“What’s a Click-Clack the Rattlebag story?”

He was a precocious child, and was unimpressed by his sister’s boyfriend’s ignorance. You could see it on his face. “Everybody knows them.”

“I don’t,” I said, trying not to smile.

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether or not I was pulling his leg. He said, “I think maybe you should take me up to my bedroom, and then you can tell me a story before I go to sleep, but probably it should be a not-scary story because I’ll be up in my bedroom then, and it’s actually a bit dark up there, too.”

I said, “Shall I leave a note for your sister, telling her where we are?”

“You can. But you’ll hear when they get back. The front door is very slammy.”

We walked out of the warm and cozy kitchen into the hallway of the big house, where it was chilly and drafty and dark. I flicked the light switch, but the hall remained dark.

“The bulb’s gone,” the boy said. “That always happens.”

Our eyes adjusted to the shadows. The moon was almost full, and blue-white moonlight shone in through the high windows on the staircase, down into the hall. “We’ll be all right,” I said.

“Yes,” said the boy, soberly. “I am very glad you’re here.” He seemed less precocious now. His hand found mine, and he held on to my fingers comfortably, trustingly, as if he’d known me all his life. I felt responsible and adult. I did not know if the feeling I had for his sister, who was my girlfriend, was love, not yet, but I liked that the child treated me as one of the family. I felt like his big brother, and I stood taller, and if there was something unsettling about the empty house I would not have admitted it for worlds.

The stairs creaked beneath the threadbare stair-carpet.

“Click-Clacks,” said the boy, “are the best monsters ever.”

“Are they from television?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think any people know where they come from. Mostly they come from the dark.”

“Good place for a monster to come.”

“Yes.”

We walked along the upper corridor in the shadows, moving from patch of moonlight to patch of moonlight. It really was a big house. I wished I had a flashlight.

“They come from the dark,” said the boy, holding on to my hand. “I think probably they’re made of dark. And they come in when you don’t pay attention. That’s when they come in. And then they take you back to their . . . not nests. What’s a word that’s like nests, but not?”

“House?”

“No. It’s not a house.”

“Lair?”

He was silent. Then, “I think that’s the word, yes. Lair.” He squeezed my hand. He stopped talking.

“Right. So they take the people who don’t pay attention back to their lair. And what do they do then, your monsters? Do they suck all the blood out of you, like vampires?”

He snorted. “Vampires don’t suck all the blood out of you. They only drink a little bit. Just to keep them going, and, you know, flying around. Click-Clacks are much scarier than vampires.”

“I’m not scared of vampires,” I told him.

“Me neither. I’m not scared of vampires either. Do you want to know what Click-Clacks do? They drink you,” said the boy.

“Like a Coke?”

“Coke is very bad for you,” said the boy. “If you put a tooth in Coke, in the morning, it will be dissolved into nothing. That’s how bad Coke is for you and why you must always clean your teeth, every night.”

I’d heard the Coke story as a boy, and had been told, as an adult, that it wasn’t true, but was certain that a lie which promoted dental hygiene was a good lie, and I let it pass.

“Click-Clacks drink you,” said the boy. “First they bite you, and then you go all ishy inside, and all your meat and all your brains and everything except your bones and your skin turns into a wet, milkshakey stuff and then the Click-Clack sucks it out through the holes where your eyes used to be.”

“That’s disgusting,” I told him. “Did you make it up?”

We’d reached the last flight of stairs, all the way into the big house.

“No.”

“I can’t believe you kids make up stuff like that.”

“You didn’t ask me about the rattlebag,” he said.

“Right. What’s the rattlebag?”

“Well,” he said, sagely, soberly, a small voice from the darkness beside me, “once you’re just bones and skin, they hang you up on a hook, and you rattle in the wind.”

“So what do these Click-Clacks look like?” Even as I asked him, I wished I could take the question back, and leave it unasked. I thought: Huge spidery creatures. Like the one in the shower this morning. I’m afraid of spiders.

I was relieved when the boy said, “They look like what you aren’t expecting. What you aren’t paying attention to.”

We were climbing wooden steps now. I held on to the railing on my left, held his hand with my right, as he walked beside me. It smelled like dust and old wood, that high in the house. The boy’s tread was certain, though, even though the moonlight was scarce.

“Do you know what story you’re going to tell me, to put me to bed?” he asked. “Like I said. It doesn’t actually have to be scary.”

“Not really.”

“Maybe you could tell me about this evening. Tell me what you did?”

“That won’t make much of a story for you. My girlfriend just moved into a new place on the edge of town. She inherited it from an aunt or someone. It’s very big and very old. I’m going to spend my first night with her, tonight, so I’ve been waiting for an hour or so for her and her housemates to come back with the wine and an Indian takeaway.”

“See?” said the boy. There was that precocious amusement again; but all kids can be insufferable sometimes, when they think they know something you don’t. It’s probably good for them. “You know all that. But you don’t think. You just let your brain fill in the gaps.”

He pushed open the door to the attic room. It was perfectly dark, now, but the opening door disturbed the air, and I heard things rattle gently, like dry bones in thin bags, in the slight wind. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Like that.

I would have pulled away then, if I could; but small, firm fingers pulled me forward, unrelentingly, into the dark.

[mlo254]

Dalgona Coffee! Or something like that.... Cooooz I want something creamy and milkshakey, but I really shouldn't have anything cold becaaause.. Homa! This one is very straight to the point. Four ingredients. Everything is in a 1:1 ratio, except the milk, coz that'd be pack a punch!! So this one is 2 tablespoons of instant coffee , 2 tablespoons of sugar, 2 tablespoons of hot water to dissolve the above, so it really must be hot. Get a small mixing bowl and a whisk. And when your mixing try to keep it all in one place so your small mixture doesn't end up all over the walls and not enough in your cup, eventually. You want to whisk it till it leaves ribbons on the surface when you lift your whisk, then keep going until soft peaks form when you lift your whisk and it's a soft brown kind of colour. Pour your milk into your glass and place the fluffy coffee pillow on top with a spoon. You can dust the top with cinnamon, cocoa powder etc to get insta shots, but if not, just stir it into your milk and enjoy the happy frothy liquid happiness 🌞 P. S. It is 2 full tablespoons of coffee and sugar sooooo pace yourself with it, maybe leave room for more milk in case it turns out to be crazy strong. Maybe. OK, byeeee. https://www.instagram.com/p/B-mEj67gMIV/?igshid=7fnuqbx1xdmh

[anneedmonds]

Trinny London Makeup: The All-Cream Dream Team

Thank the lord: something completely new and interesting and potentially life-changing in the world of makeup. Actually not that new, because the Trinny London range has been out for a while now (always late to the party, me) but definitely very interesting and I’m not exaggerating about the life-changing part. At least for those of you who don’t use makeup brushes and like to swoosh everything on, finger-painting style, with minimum fuss.

The Trinny London range has been designed specifically to be applied with fingertips, so all of the products are cream-based. Which makes total sense. If you’ve ever tried to blend out overdone powder eyeshadow with your fingertips then you’ll know what I mean. Cream products melt slightly with the heat from your fingers which makes them the perfect consistency for blending – they then set nicely, if they’re well formulated, and have the freshest, loveliest finish.

And these are well-formulated. Everything from the foundation to the cream eyeshadow feels luxurious, highly-pigmented and easy to work with and the finishes have that lovely sheeny, sheer quality that so many cream products lack. It’s grown-up makeup for people who just want to add a hint of a flush here, a little coverage there – it’s not glitter-laden lip-glosses and stencil-on brows.

The shades, too, are really sophisticated and neutral. As you search through the website it can all feel quite repetitive – three or four eyeshadows with similar tones, a blush that looks the same as a bronzer that looks the same as a lip balm – but it’s these small variations that are the genius of the whole affair. It means that you can find the shades that exactly flatter your skin and hair tone – and that you get the right consistency to perform well on whatever part of your face you’re using it. A cream eyeshadow has different demands put on it than a cream lip colour, for example – both are creams, but the texture needs to stand up to use.

So anyway, all positive here; I love a cream shadow, I adore a cream blush, lipsticks are cream anyway whether they’re stuck into a tube or kept in a little jar. The fact that the entire range is cream-formulated pleases me; it’s something a bit brave and new. Brave because it won’t be for everyone (lots of people can’t stand applying makeup without brushes, some balk at the fingers-in-pots aspect) but for those who do like to swipe things on without a mirror, in the dark, in the back of a cab, it’s a one-stop-shop.

The portability of these products is also a bit of a boon; easy to slip into hand luggage or handbag, the pots push together to form stacks (though I do think this makes it difficult to instantly find what you need to find) and everything is really lightweight. I think it would be great if the shades and products types were written on the sides of the pots so that you could identify things whilst they were still stacked (the names at the moment are on the bottom) but apart from that, it’s a great concept.

My best buys? The cream eyeshadows and the cream blush and – surprisingly – the foundation/concealer, which is called Just a Touch. It’s just about heavy enough to knock back dark circles, if you build it up a bit, but has the distinct advantage of being light enough to blend outwards with fingertips to form a rudimentary, “just where you need it” sort of base.

(Links marked * are affiliate links, products are press samples unless otherwise stated. For more info see disclaimer below post)

Here I’m wearing the foundation as a concealer (I was doing some test pictures with the new Dior Forever foundation before this, so I must declare the fact I’m wearing a full-coverage base to start with!), two different Eye-to-Eye shadows (Wisdom and Electra ), a cream bronzer and the cream blush in Electra*. I also used the blush as a top coat to my lips and it had a lovely milkshakey quality to it that pleased me greatly. It’s slightly too matte for a lip thing (there is a dual-purpose lip and cheek tint if you want to cover both bases) but I like to have a play about.

The cream blush lasted all day, the shadows did immensely well and I actually applied powder shadow over the top for a night out, so that the cream shadows formed a kind of base. It worked rather well! The only thing I find quite difficult to work with fingertips is cream bronzer – I just struggle with placement and the sheer area that needs covering for it to give that beautiful, overall-sunkissed effect. But maybe I’m a div – plenty of people get on marvellously with cream bronze.

You can find the Trinny London range online here* – I also spent a glorious (and hilarious) hour with Trinny Woodall herself in the back of her Trinny Taxi last year. And someone filmed it. If you’d like to watch that (includes a four minute makeup challenge) then you can do so here.

  The post Trinny London Makeup: The All-Cream Dream Team appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Trinny London Makeup: The All-Cream Dream Team was first posted on January 25, 2019 at 1:05 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Trinny London Makeup: The All-Cream Dream Team published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley