a serrated knife

How the heck did I make that Ahsoka Tano headpiece??? A tutorial with lots and lots of pictures

Hey! So I liked have gotten some messages about how I made my headpieces for my Clone Wars season 3-5 Ahsoka cosplay.

Message no more (well actually keep messaging if you want, I like getting messages) because here it is, all in one place! Be warned, there are tons of pictures below the cut~

Ahsoka Tano, Clone Wars Season 3-5 Headpiece: Lekku (headtails) and Montrals (horns)

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A Messed Up Place | Four

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Reader

Summary: Bucky sees something that leaves him shaken up and makes some bad decisions after. 

Warnings: One mention of sex, alcohol abuse, a lot of swearing. BUCKY FEELS SHIT ABOUT HIMSELF – and the language of the chapter reflects this.

Notes: Written for @hellomissmabel. Y’all like angst, right? Because I’m feeding it to you by the bucketload. 

and random, but: sorry that things keep happening in the kitchen. idk, I just have an obsession with kitchens, i guess?? Also, sorry if there are any typos. Didn’t really have a proper read-through of this. 

AMUP Masterlist

True to your word, the day after your date with Steve, you come in search of Bucky in order to have a chat. Despite the fact that Bucky is expecting it, an uneasy sense of dread settles in his gut all the same.

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Hand to Hand

A/N: Bucky is teaching you hand to hand combat when uh….things get interesting.

“Doll, keep your hands up. Parallel to each other like I’ve showed you.” I do as he commands and he gives a nod of approval. “Excellent, now I’m going to reach out and I want you to block my hit.”

“Okay.” I nod.

“On the count of three…one…”

His hand propels forward and I screamed out. “You said on the count of three not one.”

“Predict your opponent’s move.”

I reach out with a jab and he blocks it effortlessly, using that moment to tap me in my ribs. “You’re leaving your body unprotected.”

I sweep a hand in front of my stomach and he taps me on the neck. I grunt, propelling forward my punch landing on his rib, which was a mass of muscle. “Good girl.”

I smiled thinking of the only other time he calls me a good girl, which doesn’t involve clothing.

He taps me in the stomach again. “What the hell, that hurts.”

“Pay attention.”

“I am.” I say defensively as he blocked my punch. “Why do I need to do this?”

“You need to learn how to protect yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why when I have a deadly assassin for a boyfriend.”

He exhales deeply. “I’m no longer an assassin.” He replies tersely. “What if you find yourself in a situation when I’m off on a mission? What will you do then?”

He doesn’t give me any warning before he lunges forward and I stumbled backwards.

“I won’t need to learn hand to hand combat if I had a gun or a knife.”


“Is that so?”

I nod.


He reaches from behind revealing a sleek black knife with a serrated edge and intricate symbols on the blade. “Where the hell did that come from?” I asked looking puzzled.

“Doll, I have five weapons on my person as we speak.“He states, slipping the sheath in his pants pocket.

"Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” I asked, My eyes darting to different parts of his body.

He ignores me. He holds the knife in his palm. “If you can grab this knife from my hand, not only will I give it to you, but I’ll teach you how to use it.”

I lunge forward, but his palm closes. “You’ll have to be faster than that.”

“You have an unfair advantage.”

We both look at his arm. “My arm? Are you serious?” I nod. “Fine.”

He puts his left arm behind his back then opens the palm of his right hand, dangling the knife skillfully in front of me. I take a step forward and the knife disappears out of sight. I used this moment to hit him in the chest.


“You’re leaving your body unprotected.” I teased.


The next actions happened so quickly, I don’t know if I should be impressed, frightened or turned on. He tosses the knife up in the air, sweeps my legs from beneath me in one swift movement, his left arm cradles my fall as we both hit the floor and in another split second he catches the knife without looking and stabs it into the space above my head.


“Your pupils are dilated.” He observes.


I wonder if he could hear my heart palpitations as my heart raced abnormally in my chest. The vibration of my pulse in my veins pounded loudly in my ears as I became aware of our bodies, mainly the throbbing pressed into my hip.


“Is that one of the five weapons you have on your person.” I say all breathy.

He bites his bottom lip and smirked, leaning his face next to my ear. “No, this weapon is not like the others.”


“How so?” I asked inhaling deeply, fully aware of the movements of my body and how with every inhalation his limbs sinks deeper into my own.


He paused, gazing intently at my parted lips sucking in air that was tinged with my lust and his sweat.


“This weapon is dangerous when provoked.” He threatens. His cerulean eyes becoming volcanic as I felt the explosion of heat radiating out of my apex and the noticeable growth and hardening of his throb.

“Bucky.” I breathed as his tongue grazed my bottom lip..


He pins my wrists above my hand that scrapes the serrated knife and presses his full weight on top of me as he spread my legs with his knee.

Sons of Lawrence #10

Summary:  Sons of Anarchy meets Supernatural. In this AU, the Winchesters run the most notorious biker gang in Lawrence. They traffic illegal drugs, weapons, and anything else that makes them money and keeps them on top.
Characters in this chapter: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Gadreel, Crowley
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,344
Warnings: Language, angst, casual drug use.
Author’s Note: This series isn’t going to be light and fluffy. It will include explicit language, explicit sexual content, casual use of illegal drugs, explicit canon typical violence.
Miss the beginning?

It was after Mary had fallen asleep that you decided to tell John and Sam about Gadreel. Dean still hadn’t returned, but you couldn’t keep it to yourself any longer.

You were pulling a deep drag from your second cocaine-laced cigarette and your leg was bouncing nervously under the intense gaze from two very intimidating men.

“This man,” John started, voice rough with barely keeping his emotions under control. “You saw him?”

“Today,” you said tremulously. “He delivered a bouquet of flowers; lilies. They were my favorite, until…” your voice trailed off as you stood and showed them your scar-adorned stomach.

While both men had their share of scars, they hissed and winced as if they themselves felt the pain. Then, there eyebrows drew together and dark rage rolled into their eyes. Sam, who was sitting next to you, reached out and ran his thumb over the scar. You did your best not to wince -it still hurt every now and then- or pull away from his inquisitive touch.

“Serrated butcher knife,” you muttered, answering his unasked question. “Pushed it in to the hilt, and then pulled.” Using Sam’s finger, you demonstrated what happened.

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

“Son of a bitch,” John snarled. “Until Gad is dealt with, you’re staying here, Y/N.”

Sam was nodding almost violently in agreement. “We won’t let you outta our sight.”

Your hands were shaking as you pulled your shirt down. “I don’t want to intrude. I mean…” you waved a hand in the direction of where Mary was sleeping.

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

John stood, rounded the small table, and grabbed your shoulders. “You’re not intruding. Besides, you saved Mary. The least I could do is offer you a safe haven.” He pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly, only to release you a moment later when the three of you heard Mary call out.

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Only bad things happen when a con-man decides to pull off a con at Elsewhere U.  Y'know, the sort of people– charlatans– who deal in stuff like pyramid schemes and getting people to pay them for something they won’t supply?

If he’s lucky, no one will participate.  Many people at Elsewhere U are very savvy, even though their experiences pertain to deals that will absolutely hold true to their promises.  If he’s luckier still, someone will warn him before he even starts trying to trick anyone: “Get off these grounds if you value anything other than money, or even if you value that.  Do not try to go through with your schemes.  Get far, far away from here.“  If he’s the luckiest of all, he’ll listen to them.

If he’s unlucky, on the other hand… oh boy.

If he’s unlucky, he will get business.  Business from something with too many eyes, and business from something with no eyes at all.  Business from something with too-long arms, from something with teeth serrated like a steak knife.  Business from something with teeth for arms and arms for teeth.  Business from something dripping wet and possibly wrapped in sealskin.  Business from something pretty much made out of flowers.  Business because he’s, somehow, offering something They want.

If he’s unluckier still– the unluckiest of all– then he won’t even notice his clientele’s abundant… oddities, and will just think that the ‘students’ at Elsewhere U aren’t good at distinguishing when a deal is a bad one.  He’s wrong, of course, in thinking that: not one of his clients is a student, unless they’re covering for one.  But if he’s unlucky or just a fool, he’ll accept every deal with a fake smile, a hidden laugh, and a promise he has no intention of keeping.

And the one he is dealing with will accept the deal as well: with a genuine and genuinely terrifying smile, a not-so-hidden laugh that could grate concrete, and a promise that they know, the way They do, will be kept or the consequences will be more than anyone– the con-man included– could hope to pay.

x

VICTORIAN TEA CAKE!

½ cup unsalted butter softened
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs at room temperature
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 ¾ cup sifted cake-and-pastry flour
1 ½ teaspoon baking powder
1 pinch salt
½ cup milk
icing sugar

Filling :
2/3 cups whipping cream
½ cup strawberry jam


Grease and flour 8- or 9-inch (1.2 or 1.5 L) round metal cake pan; line bottom with parchment paper. Set aside.

In large bowl, beat butter until light and pale, about 2 minutes. Beat in sugar, 3 tbsp (45 mL) at a time, beating for 30 seconds after each addition, about 2 minutes. Beat in eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each. Beat in vanilla.

In separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder and salt; sift into butter mixture alternately with milk, making 3 additions of dry ingredients and 2 of milk. Scrape into prepared pan.

Bake in 350 F (180 C) oven until cake tester inserted in centre comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Let cool in pan on rack for 10 minutes. Turn out onto rack; peel off paper. Let cool.

Filling: In bowl, whip cream. Invert cake onto platter. Using long serrated knife, cut in half horizontally. Spread with jam; top with cream. Replace top of cake. Sift icing sugar over top.

Absolution - Part 1

Masterlist  Part 2

Summary: Bucky must figure out how to live with some of his worst memories when he can’t shake one particular ghost from his past.

Prompt(s): Could you do a Bucky story inspired by Murder Song - Aurora?

Warnings: AAAAANNNNGGSSTTT so much angst. Ok, we’ve got swearing, nightmares, looks at Bucky’s captivity and the unpleasantness related to it, murdery sadness, I think that covers it?

Word Count: 1712

Author’s Note: I got carried away because I love this artist… I will be posting this story in 3 parts. I’m queuing them to post at 4pm Eastern every day, so I won’t be opening a new tag list for this one.

Originally posted by evansmaximoff

“James?” His voice was gentle, but a little insistent. Bucky blinked quickly a few times before lifting his eyes to his doctor. He must have called his name a few times, judging by the concerned way his eyebrows drew down just slightly and the gentle urging in his tone.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, not quite meeting his eye. “I’m here.”

“Okay,” the therapist acknowledged calmly, “Want to tell me where you went?”

Bucky’s chest swelled with the deep breath he drew in. He held it, trying to steady himself before releasing it slowly through clenched teeth. He felt the minutes tick by, knowing he needed to say something. He did trust this man, had been pretty honest with him up until this point. But this was the point where things got messy, became… ugly.

“No.”

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Dancing with the Stars Cake


Yields one 6-inch sphere cake

The things you’ll need

Ingredients
  • 2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
  • 1 cup cake flour
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 2 ½ teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 ¼ teaspoons salt
  • 3 egg whites
  • ¾ cup oil
  • 1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon almond extract
  • 2 ½ cups whole milk
Equipment
  • Sphere cake pan
  • Baking spray
  • Medium mixing bowl
  • Large mixing bowl
  • Whisk
  • Rubber spatula
  • Small serrated knife
  • Small cake board
  • Offset spatula
  • Small fondant rolling pin
  • Small square cookie cutter
  • Alphabet cookie cutters
  • White fondant
  • Small, flat paintbrushes
  • Silver color mist
  • Edible disco dust
  • Edible gold dust
  • Almond extract
  • Grey buttercream frosting in a decorating bag fitted with a #1A tip
  • Royal icing in a decorating bag fitted with a #1 tip

Let’s get started!

  1. Preheat oven to 325°F. Grease and flour the sphere cake pan and place on a baking sheet.
  2. In a large bowl, whisk together flours, sugar, baking powder, and salt.
  3. In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together egg whites, oil, vanilla and almond extracts, and whole milk until well combined.
  4. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix until well incorporated.
  5. Pour the batter into the ball cake and tap the pan gently on the counter to remove any air bubbles.
  6. Bake for 1 hour and 30 minutes.
  7. Remove cake from pan and cool completely. Level the tops of each half.

Time to decorate!

  1. Use a small knife to level the round bottom of one half. Place this half on a cake board and top with grey frosting.
  2. Gently press the other half of the cake down onto the frosted half to make a sphere.
  3. Frost the entire cake with grey frosting. Refrigerate while preparing decorations.
  4. Roll out white fondant about ¼ inch thick and then spray with silver color mist. Sprinkle with edible disco dust and then cut out small squares.
  5. Roll out white fondant about ¼ inch thick and then cut out letters. Mix a few drops of almond extract into edible gold dust and then brush it onto each letter.
  6. Arrange squares onto cake to look like a disco ball.
  7. Use royal icing to attach letters onto disco ball.
  8. TaDa! Dancing with the Stars never tasted so delicious!

Simple Black Forest Cake

Ingredients:

  • 190g flour, sifted
  • 200g sugar
  • 200g margarine
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 tsp baking powder, sifted
  • 3 tbsp cocoa powder, sifted
  • 5 tbsp hot milk
  • 500g pitted black cherries in syrup
  • 1 heaped tbsp cornflour
  • 250ml double cream
  • 75g icing sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla bean paste
  • 125g cream cheese
  • chocolate shavings, to decorate

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 170°C. Butter the sides and line the bottom of a 20cm springform. Using a stand mixer, combine flour, sugar, margarine, eggs and a pinch of salt in a large mixing bowl until smooth, then toss in baking powder and give it a stir. In a small cup combine cocoa powder and hot milk to create a paste. Add to the batter and mix until combined. When ready, turn the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for 30-40 mins or until the skewer inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean. Remove from the oven and cool for 5 minutes before turning out on to a wire rack. Take off the lining paper and leave the cake to cool.

Drain the cherries reserving the juice. In a small saucepan, mix cornflour with a small amount of juice until well combined, then add remaining juice. Place over a medium heat and bring slowly to the boil, stirring once in a while, until thickened. Taste and add some sugar if needed. Remove from the heat, add cherries (you can reserved a few to decorate top of the cake) and leave to cool.

Combine double cream, icing sugar and vanilla bean paste in a mixing bowl. Whip using a mixer until light and thick, then add cream cheese and mix until well combined.

When the cake is cold, cut it in half using a sharp serrated knife.
Place one half on a plate and spread it with a 2/3 of the cream filling. Top with a cherry mixture. Place the other half of the cake on top, then spread remaining cream filling over it. Decorate the cake with chocolate shavings and a few cherries.

Bon Appétit!

Cookingland

Jealousy

Based on @bara-kick‘s Jeremwood comic

Jeremy swirled the champagne in his flute, brown eyes cast down as the target shamelessly flirted with him. The job was straightforward, lure in the leader of an upstart gang and take him out. It worked out better than expected because the gang wasn’t local. ‘And they have the gall to encroach on our territory,’ Jeremy mused to himself.

Chuckling to a joke Jeremy didn’t hear, he looked up at the target through his lashes, putting on a pout and just barely leaning closer. “Tell me more,” he purred, voice like silk.

The resident pretty boy couldn’t take this job because the target wasn’t fond of blonds. ‘That’s dumb,’ Gavin complained. Instead, Gavin taught Jeremy how to pursue and look demure to reel in a target.

The target’s fingertips ghosted over the back of Jeremy’s hand and he let them. He was about to turn his hand over and lace their fingers when a serrated knife came down and impaled the target’s forearm. He screamed and Jeremy felt a familiar body against his.

“Mission’s over, we’re coming back,” Ryan said, voice gruff. Jeremy glanced back and saw the naked rage in his eyes.

They left the bar, the target still pinned to the bar where Ryan stabbed him. As they piled into Ryan’s car and sped away before the cops could come, Jeremy kept quiet. He knew better than to redirect Ryan’s anger and something as trivial as this would burn itself out soon enough.

They parked at the plateau below the Vinewood sign. From here, they could see the glowing, forty-foot letters on the horizon. Ryan stopped the car and leaned back in his seat. He exhaled deeply, letting out tension built in his chest.

Jeremy unbuckled his seatbelt and gently crawled over to sit in Ryan’s lap. He straddled the older man’s hips and let his forearms rest on Ryan’s shoulders. “Jealousy’s a good look for you, Ry,” Jeremy commented, letting honey sweeten his voice. He leaned in halfway and Ryan automatically leaned in the other half.

Before their lips could meet, Jeremy took Ryan’s chin in one hand and squeezed hard. “But get in the way of me or my job ever again, and I will kill you.”

Ryan swallowed, eyes widening as he realized how truly annoyed he made Jeremy.

Still, Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to stay angry, so he pulled the lever on Ryan’s chair and promptly showed him who he really belonged to.

Recipe: Earl Grey Cake w/Chocolate Lavender Buttercream

Because what’s better than sipping Earl Grey tea in your jammies while toppling regimes? Eating tea flavored cake for breakfast with your cuppa while toppling regimes. 

The recipes I’ve posted so far are familiar enough, but this one was new for me. I’ll include my reactions at the end. Image heavy as usual. (I’m sorry.) 

Tagging for @alexandre00q re:Slack chat (I hope that’s right – I was a little turnt in the kitchen last night)

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Intertwined-Chapter 2

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: ANGST. Depression, Violence, Smut, Mutant Reader (ALWAYS) powers include immortality, healing and telekinesis. Currently can’t think of anything else.

Summary: 5 years after the events of CACW, you are the live-in therapist for the newly reconciled Avengers, Steve’s Fiancé. The first words your soulmate speaks appears on your body, but only after your first conversation has taken place, making it impossible to know who your soulmate is, what will happen when Steve brings Bucky too live at the compound?  


Originally posted by busygina

Steve is staring at you with pure disbelief “Bucky is your soulmate” he states. Looking between you and his best friend. “You can’t be serious” he says. Guilt is gnawing at your brain. You’re being irrational, but you can’t help but feel responsible for your current predicament. Bucky is sitting to your left looking like he would rather be anywhere but here, Steve’s eyes are darting between you and Bucky, waiting for someone to respond to his question “I… Punk I don’ know what ta say” Bucky ventures “It aint like I walked inta her office wantin to find my soulmate” He adds dryly. “Buck, can you leave me and (y/n) alone please?” Steve grits out through clenched teeth. Bucky casts a worried glance in your direction, it passes over his face so quickly your mind barely processes it. Steve Sits quietly, leveling you with the most destroyed look you have ever seen on someones face “I cannot lose you” he whispers “Because if I ever did I’d have lost my best friend, my smile, my laugh my everything” his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, biting down so hard you can see little drop of blood forming.  “Please don’t leave me baby doll” he whispers. You rise from your chair, tears streaming down your face “Stevie, baby I’m so sorry. I’m not going to leave, I love you. Please believe me” you reassure “He was literally made for ya doll, I know what that feels like, I know how strong the pull is, you can’t promise ya won’t leave, I know because I wouldn’t be able ta promise that.” You suck in a breath “It’s you Stevie. Its always been you” you plead “Don’t push me away Cap” you grab his chin  forcing him to look at you. “I love you, I hardly know Bucky, I’ll marry you right now if that’s what it takes to make you believe me.” he stands and grabs your waist “I believe ya darlin’.” Oh thank god. Your body relaxes as he draws small circles on your hip bone “Ya gonna have ta spend time with him though” Wait, no what “hear me out (y/n), Bucky needs normal. To feel like he has someone besides me, ya know? I’ll talk ta him, we can’t avoid this Doll” Fucking Captain America making fucking sense. Motherfucker. “Alright Steven, we do this your way” resignation thick in your tone. “Thank ya darlin” He pulls you in for a kiss, your hands slipping up his arms “You’re mine, an’ you’re gonna stay that way” he murmurs against your lips. 

 Bucky’s Pov: 

His hands are shaking, breath coming out in short, sharp pants. You’re so beautiful it causes him physical pain. He can’t bear to look you in the eye, you were supposed to be his, his destiny, his love, but he can see the love you hold for Steve and it feels like a hot serrated knife is scorching its way through his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs air, because it’s obviously being sucked from his very lungs the longer he watches you with Steve. Oh yes he heard the entire conversation and every word you uttered felt like a punch straight to the solar plexus. He can’t explain the violent reaction he’s having, he wants to pull Steve apart piece by piece for touching, holding, kissing what’s his, he should be the one reassuring you, holding you close to him and he can’t fucking take it. He growls as he pushes off the wall, running his hands through his hair in frustration. You could never want him, he knows what he’s done, who he is. He’s broken, fractured, and he knows there’s no fixing what’s wrong with him. He needs space, from you, from Steve, you’re too fucking close and he can’t think. He barks out a humorless laugh as he strolls down the hallway, he chuckles at the irony of the situation; Steve never got the girls back in the 40’s, Bucky did. Oh and how the tables have turned, the one woman he truly wants can never be his because she’s already with his best friend. He knows nothing about you, but he wants to, he doesn’t know what you’re feeling or thinking but god does he want to. This burning inside his chest is screaming at him to go back, to make you his, to demand Steve to take his damn hands off you and drag you out of there. He flings himself backwards onto his bed and rubs at his eyes. Fuck he thinks, it hurts having someone in your heart, but never having them in your arms. And with that thought Bucky Barnes, infamous Winter Soldier, deadly assassin, cries for the first time in 70 years. 

 Your Pov:

 Empty, Numb. That’s how you feel after Steve leaves you alone in the lounge, the events of the last 3 hours replaying like a bad movie over in your head. You can’t begin to process what just happened, but you have the nagging suspicion that you are truly and whole heartedly fucked. You already miss Bucky’s presence and you haven’t spent more than an hour with him. You know spending more time with him isn’t going to do you any favors, the bond is only going to intensify the more time you spend with him. The fear you felt at the prospect of losing Steve is already fading and you’re completely horrified that it went away so quickly. The words Steve spoke earlier rise unbidden into your mind. “He was literally made for ya doll, I know what that feels like. I know how strong the pull is.” The realization that Bucky is already working his way underneath your skin has you chocking back sobs. I want Steve you remind yourself he’s not just another person, he’s the love of my life you’re trying to convince yourself that soulmate or not, you will not fall for Bucky Barnes. Nope. Never gonna happen. 

  How completely and spectacularly wrong you were. 

Tags:Guys i honestly do not know why you’re still reading. Like why are you guys so good too me? Also im having some issues with a couple of tags. 

@beckyyyyyx3 @smile-sugar @buckybear97 @i-had-a-life-once @minxyvixen @tilltheendwilliwrite @crownedloki @whyisbuckyso @redroomproperty @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes @griseldaevn @marvelous-fvcks @denialanderror @gingerbatchwife @chipilerendi @an-unholy-confession @wheresthekillswitch @buckysinthesinbin @melconnor2007 @marshmellowgems11 @38leticia @awinterloveuniverse @iamwarrenspeace @krissyxkitten @akiiiiiiiiiii @justreadingfics @adellyhatter-blog @christynjay @jessi909 @buckyappreciationsociety @youreaninjaturtle-blog @geekyambz0938 @aquabrie @gypsycat111 @avenravenforever

@stanby-reality @erinvanlyssel @gatorgal94 @capt-coldy @soldierspetangel @glitterbras @genlovesdcb @kt-the-destroyer @chameerah @opaque-daydream @darkhinata15 @bolontiku 

Creepypasta #1352: Public Service Is A Messy Business

Length: Medium

My family has always been “odd”. Most of the time I’m pretty sure the whole town drives by just to stare in the windows and see what we are up to. My dad has been a detective for some time now. He is a large Italian man that looks more suited for the mafia than the police force. He loves his job, and enjoys protecting the city even more. My mom is a criminal defense attorney and gets off on people getting away with all kinds of crazy things. I can tell she’s in it for the chase. She’s naturally a very competitive person. I am in the 7th grade, but could pass for about 16 if I really tried. My little brother is seven. He is a little twerp, but I enjoy being with him sometimes.

Earlier today, though, something very strange happened. I got ready for school and went ahead and did my make up with a little more effort. It looked pretty, and I felt pretty. I put on my tightest jeans and put on my wonder woman t-shirt. I had blossomed over the summer so the tightness of the shirt accentuated the new trophies I got to carry around. Secretly, I was trying to catch the attention of one of my best friends. My dad was a cop, so it was difficult to really do anything too dangerous, but I had to try at least. I grabbed my lunch out of the fridge and my backpack and walked to school.

It was a pretty normal day overall. I ate lunch alone because people always say that my lunch smells bad. I’ve never noticed it, my mom is one of the best chef’s I know. My best friend, John, finally came and sat down as I finished my last bite.

“I don’t know how you can eat that crap. It smells awful.”

I rolled my eyes, “Just because my mom is a more exotic chef than yours doesn’t mean that you have to be a jerk about it.”

We talked throughout lunch and made plans to meet up at the park after school.

As I walked out the front doors of the school, my phone vibrated with a text. It was from my dad.

“It’s your turn to get dinner tonight. You’re mother is stressed. I’m picking up your brother and I’ll be home in an hour. Love you, sweetie.”

I wasn’t going to go straight home. I knew that I had enough time to see John for a little while. I got to the edge of the block and turned on Luster. It is the nicest street in town. There is a beautiful oak or maple tree in every yard. Each house has a little picket fence around it. It made me think of the home I wanted to have someday. Behind me, I heard the slow rumble of an old car. I thought maybe they were looking for a specific house or just not paying attention. When their pace did not speed up, I did. The car revved a little louder as I began to power walk. I got to the edge of the street and it made a quick turn to follow me. I did this a few more times and continued to hear the engine. I ran.

I started to feel my lungs burn as I ran faster and faster. The car’s engine kept reminding me that I was not alone. I ran toward Old Mr. Patterson’s field when the car whizzed in front of me and cut me off. A man got out who was around my dad’s age with greasy, thinning hair. He stood up straight and brushed off his shirt where tiny crumbs fell to the ground. His hands were caked with old grease and worn out from work.

“Hi, Stacey. You don’t know who I am, but I know who you are. You’re going to get in the car very quietly and we are going to get your little brother. Don’t make any noise, now. That would be a mistake,” he said as he pulled a long serrated knife from behind his back.

There was nothing else for me to do besides get in the car. If I screamed, no one would hear me. We were far enough outside of town that it would be impossible to get help. I walked over to the side door and got in the car. In the backseat there were ropes and zip ties. I could tell the man was getting nervous because he continued to sweat even though the air conditioner was blasting in the car. I tried to remain straight faced. My dad told me that if I did this, more than likely the perp wouldn’t want to continue the game.

“We are going to my guys’ house to get your bother. He already picked him up and he is waiting for us. I’ve been following you for months and waiting for the perfect opportunity. I can’t wait to play with you. Your bastard father wont’ be able to do anything this time.”

The man pulled on to my street and pulled into our driveway. The garage door went up, he pulled in and the door went down. My father came out the side of the door leading in to our house and greeted the man.

“Hey, Tommy, I see you got the girl.” The man’s eyes’ widened as my dad hit him in the head with his gun.

“Dad, next time you want me to be the bait for our dinner, give me a heads up. I about crapped my pants this time.”

My dad opened the door and the man’s body fell to the ground. He took the serrated knife and cut the man’s throat. His blood ran out of his body and into the drain in the middle of the garage.

“Honey, you’re mother told me last minute that she needed more meat. I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to give you all the details,” he said as he revved up the saw.

My dad hasn’t technically been on the force for about 2 years, but my mom gives him a heads up on her clients that are able to get off the hook. He still uses his resources to track them.

It’s kind of like a public service. Trust me, no one cares when they disappear.

You should come over for dinner sometime. My mom makes a killer meatloaf.

Credits to: spaswimmer1023 (story)

Beauty is pain.

I’m sure every young girl thinks this at some time or other, but my mother is really hard on me. I seem to disappoint her at every turn: with my behavior, my grades, my eating habits- anything you can name, really.

The biggest disappointment to her, however, are my looks; so far removed from her own blond, slender beauty. Though she doesn’t say it, I think she blames me for taking more after father. My unattractive looks are a constant reminder of his abandonment.

She has been talking about plastic surgery for me lately, but without much optimism. I’m far too young, for starters, but it’s more than that. I can read behind the lines of her weary shrug; how much could they really do, considering the subject? The knowledge stings, but it would be foolish to deny the truth of it.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling brave, I try to suggest that maybe I’m just meant to look the way I do. Her scolding lecture is always the same. “Beauty may be pain, darling, but it’s not as painful as the world’s punishment when you lack it!”

Her knock on my door wakes me from my musings, and I brace myself for the start of our morning ritual.

First come the contacts that sting my eyes terribly. Then the curling iron, forcing my coarse hair into submission. Makeup, applied lavishly. Nails, clipped and polished. Teeth brushed and filed.

Now comes the worst part. I grit my teeth in preparation for the familiar touch of the sharp, serrated knife on my back.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, it’s over. I’m breathless and dizzy from the pain, and barely feel her slipping the dress- carefully padded- over my shoulders and ruthlessly tightening the sash.

She steps back to examine the finished product, and I try to blink back the tears and smile, hoping this time she’ll like what she sees.

The tips of my sharp fangs have broken off and filed smooth. The crimson of my eyes is well concealed by the colored contacts, and of course, the leathery wings push that their way through my shoulder blades every night have been sawed down to bloody stumps.

“Good girl” she whispers in a moment of rare approval, carefully placing the pretty pink hair band over the horns that have been soldered down, but still manage to protrude through my elaborate hairdo.

She smiles encouragingly as she speaks the familiar words.

“Just remember: don’t be yourself today, and everyone will love you.”

Advocates for Chaos (pt. 7)

Previous and Next

Peevils has felt the effects of fading before as a previous character. She can’t remember what her name had been or even what type of person she was, but she can remember the horror of watching herself fade away, disappear, like a sweater with a loose thread will unravel until it’s nothing but a mess of string. She can feel it again now.

Her arms and legs are already unraveled, not even really there anymore. There is only the faintest outline of where her hand should be, and her fingers are completely transparent. When Natemare reaches to grab her hand, his own passes right through the space.

She can see it in his eyes, the moment that he wonders if she’s already too far gone.

MadPat moves quickly. Too quickly, Wilford thinks just before a smattering of blood dots his cheeks. It’s a familiar sensation, the little pinpricks of warm blood that light his senses on fire with an insatiable need for more, and never before has he tried to hold back like he’s trying now.

Host drops to one knee, the gun clattering to the floor, as the blow knocks him off balance. A hand covers his face as Mad swings around for the next blow with the serrated knife in his hand, but the Host whispers a few words, just a simplest narration of, “MadPat’s heart stops,” and the other figment crumbles, dead by the time he hits the floor.

Host turns his face up to Wilford, but the pink Ego already knows that he can’t see him. The one blow that Mad managed to deal slashed across the Host’s eyes, rendering them useless.  Mare makes a guttural noise deep in his throat at the sight of his friend’s dead body lying there on the floor, and the room instantly fills with purple vapor so thick that Anti can’t see his hand in front of his face as he glitches over to Other Bim and Other Wilford and glitches them both out of the room.

It’s probably the most heroic thing he’s ever done, and then he feels the stab to his back.

Host twists the knife as he holds Anti in place with an arm around the glitch’s throat. “It’s a shame you didn’t think to save yourself,” he whispers in Anti’s ear before pulling out the knife with a swift jerk and disappearing into the mist.

Anti feels a dribble of blood drip down the corner of his mouth as his vision starts to fade quickly.

Bim finds Mare and Peevils in the mist, feeling around for them on the floor until he gets to them. Mare sees the other Ego through the smoke and parts it so that Bim can reach them. Bim glances at Peevils with a silent question on his lips, but Mare pulls a shard of the table out of his pocket.

Peevils takes a breath and transports Mare inside the piece of glass.

Wilford hears the slightest whistle of air bending around a blade before he slips out of the way just in time to miss being stabbed by the Host. The serrated knife, stolen from Mad’s dead fingers, drips with blood, green and putrid-looking. Wilford realizes instantly who it belongs to and feels anger rise like bile in his throat.

The Host is narrating to himself, all of their positions throughout the room, but he’s still smiling, savage and brutal as a bullet tearing through flesh. “Your little glitch friend is dying, Wilford, and the mad scientist is already gone. I wonder how long it will take me to pick the rest of them off, especially since the lovely lady is already evaporating like morning dew. Such a shame.” His head tilts to the side, and the blood running down his cheeks changes direction slightly. “Do I remind you of someone? Is that why you haven’t shot me yet?”

Wilford doesn’t remember drawing his gun exactly. It’s so instinctual now that it comes as naturally as breathing, but even though he has a clear shot, Wilford’s trigger finger won’t budge. The Host takes a step forward. “Come on, Wilford. Go ahead.”

Warfstache feels his blood pounding in his ears, a racing drumbeat that presses him on. Fire, fire, fire. It says, but all the memories in his head and the memories of his muscles fight against each other. Until one of them wins out.

And there’s an explosion like the sound of a million shattering mirrors

Watch on tipbuzzfood.tumblr.com

Cheesy Ham and Potato Stuffed Bread! #tipbuzz #tipbuzzfood INGREDIENTS
1 large rectangular bread loaf
2 white or red potatoes peeled
salt and pepper to taste
3 slices ham
3 slices Mozzarella
¼ cup parsley chopped
1 cup Mozzarella grated
2 lEggs
½ cup half and half milk

INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat oven to 350°F. Using a serrated knife, cut the top of the bread loaf and remove a large piece well into the bread loaf.
Peel the potatoes and cut to ¼-inch thickness and season with salt and pepper.
Press a layer of potatoes into the bread. Add ham and cheese.
Repeat with a layers of potatoes, ham and then cheese. Add one final layer of potatoes, parsley and then cheese.
In a medium bowl, whisk together eggs and half and half. Pour evenly over grated cheese.
Bake for 50 minutes. Serve and enjoy!

Made with Instagram

anonymous asked:

How about some angst/comfort for our ol' bird boy, Mod Pasta? Chisaki being comforted by his s/o as best they can after he lost both of his hands. (P.S. I feel so bad for him cuz he won't be able to fully participate in any dances like Cha-Cha Slide. :C)

Ew I’m studying so much for finals, ew. This made me cry, I want more.

-Mod Pasta 🍜 🍝5

“Kai?…” He hadn’t spoken ever since you found him in the middle of the street with the truck he had been escorted in burning behind him while he bled out. You quickly took him to your apartment and away from the public eye, sadly having to leave for a few minutes to sprint to a store and get their largest medical kit you could find. You had tried to convince him to go to a villain hospital, but he wouldn’t let you.

So there you sat for six hours, the only noises leaving him being that of a wince or a sigh; he was used to pain at this point. You had used medical stitches after cleaning the wound and having to amputate part of the bone after sharpening your best serrated knife. This was all from memory, google research and a bit of help from your doctor friend on the phone. She had hung up just minute before, screaming that she would be coming over as soon as she got off her shift.

“If you’re wondering how I got it-” His voice was hoarse and soft.

“I’m not. I want to know why you got it,” You swallowed hard, glancing at the remaining stitches. You might need more tomorrow when you would remove them and clean the wound once again.

“I underestimated who I was dealing with,” He whispered under his breath, his eyes not wandering from the floor. This was so unlike him - he would have snapped at you for interrupting him, then do something lewd to retain his dominance. Now he just seemed… broken, like he could wrap his head around how to speak. After washing and sanitizing your hands, you walking to him and leaned down to wrap your arms around him awkwardly since he was sitting on the bathtub.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay Kai,” You whisper, closing your eyes. He flinches away from you, and you just hold on as he starts to trash and scoot away.

“I don’t need your affection, I don’t need love, I just need…” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he raised them to look up at you. Now you could tell why he wasn’t looking at you; he was holding back tears, the whites of his eyes red and puffy with how he held them back.

“You need to rest and recover. It’s over, Kurono isn’t responding to my messages,” You pulled on his shoulder, and he limply got up and followed you out of the bathroom, “And I know you don’t want it to be, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I-Ah, right, you’re my girlfriend,” He muttered, sighing and lolling his head as you felt him apply a little more of his weight to you, and you stifled a sigh, “(F/N)?”

“Yeah Kai?” You glanced at his blank face with your usual large doe eyes that he adored so much. He didn’t respond until he was lying on your bed, a sheet of saran wrap coating the entire bed so that any excess blood or pus wouldn’t stain the sheets. He laid there, unmoving.

“I don’t…” He blinked a couple of times, as if surprised that he had lost his words. He was usually so composed, he usually felt pride, power, dominance and absolute curiosity, but now he couldn’t seem to feel anything at all, “I think my mission is over.”

“Kai, you sound like -” You gasped as tears pricked your eyes, “No, how could you say tha-I… No. You’re not allowed to die,” You ordered, climbing over him and straddling him. He stared up at you drearily.

“What else do I have to do in life?” He whispered as if his shadow could hear him speak. He sounded afraid, he looked so lonely, and you wished you could scream out that he wasn’t alone, but he looked so far away right now that reaching out wouldn’t do you any good. So you sat on his lap, a foreign feeling residing on your hips. His hands used to rest there, but you cannot cry. You have to be strong.

“What would I do if you were gone? You are my life, the light of my whole entire life,” You leaned down, and as you pecked his chapped lips that you hadn’t gotten around to washing the dried blood off of, you heard his breath catch in his throat.

“You can live without me. You have purpose in your life, (F/N). I’m just a failed gang leader, a failed scientist at that,” He scoffed, gritting his teeth as silent tears streamed down his face, hot enough to leave red marks in their wake.

“You made the syrym work, and you didn’t have a gang, you had a family,” You closed your eyes, gently resting your soft forehead against his scratched up own, “and if you liked them, you could have one with me.”

“Look away, I c-can’t cover my face,” He choked on his own words as he started to break down. His body convulsed under you as you hugged his shoulders loosely and buried your face in the crook of his neck. He sobbed, hiccuped, wailed and vented, and all you did was listen and nod, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until he eventually fell into an uneven sleep. You wouldn’t forget his sleepy words as he drifted off, though…

“A family? With a man like me? How could I ever have found a woman like you… You’re too good to me, goddamnit.”