In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder and salt.
In a large bowl, mix butter, shortening and sugar until light and fluffy with an electric mixer.
Beat in egg whites one at a time, scraping down the bowl after each addition. Add extracts and beat until well combined.
On low speed, alternate adding the four mixture and milk to the butter mixture, beginning and ending with the flour mixture.
Spray each of your 15 pans and divide batter evenly between the prepared pans.
Bake the cakes all together for 20 minutes. Remove and let cool.
Time to decorate!
Roll out yellow fondant and cut out little stars. Set aside.
Squeeze a few dollops of frosting onto a small round cake board and then stick the first cake onto the board.
Spread buttercream frosting on top of the first cake and then place another cake on top. Do this one more time and then frost the top and sides of the 3 cakes.
Repeat steps 2 and 3 three more times so that you have 4 frosted stacks on cake boards.
Use 2 of the 3 remaining cakes to make a small frosted stack on a cake board.
Stick the last cake to a small cake board and then frost it with blue frosting.
Press a dowel into a round Styrofoam base to create a foundation for the cakes.
8. Position a cake stack so that the hole in the middle of the cake board is lined up with the dowel and then guide the cake down to the base. Place 4 large straws into the cake to create more support. Make sure to cut the straws so they are not sticking out from the tops of the cakes.
Continue stacking cakes, stacking small stack and the blue cake last.
Use blue frosting in a decorating bag fitted with a #10 tip to pipe thick wavy lines onto the stacks, resembling the filling between each of the 15 layers on the Sleeping Beauty cake.
Place fondant stars evenly onto the sides of the top cake layer (the blue cake).
Use yellow frosting in a decorating bag fitted with a star tip to pipe draping “U” shapes in between each fondant star to connect them.
Pipe 15 small yellow dollops evenly around the outer-top of the blue cake and then stick a candle into each dollop.
Honestly writing is so fucking amazing like. Its people making entire complex worlds and characters come to life, bringing the thoughts and ideas into reality through words. It takes so much skill and its creating something wonderful and detailed and lively from nothing. Ive read books with beautiful fantasy worlds created from scratch, with their own rules and laws and beliefs that differ greatly from reality.
Even FANFICTION!!! Fanfic writers always are said to have it easier than original novel writers and as a fic writer and reader imma say thats bullshit. Fanfiction is an Art in itself. Taking pre-existing characters and writing them into new situations is hard! Expanding on their personality and character while keeping it believable to the original content is a challenge! Not to mention fanfiction writers write in a general way that differs greatly from famous novels, that geel more emotional and breath taking.
Authors, if theyre writing fanfiction or original novels, are Damn FUCKING amazing. Writing is a skill that takes years of practice to develop and deserve so much respect.
* ✰. — by clicking HERE you will be redirected to ### gifs of the adonis, ( CHRIS WOOD ). all these gifs are sized (100 x 100 ). all of these are made by my beautiful friend sophie from scratch, so please don’t claim or redistribute as your own. i only added a psd to them and put them on a page, so all credit goes to the sophie. these gifs will be updated regularly !! please, LIKE or REBLOG if you find these useful. xoxo
Laura has a noticeable reaction to the lightning and thunder strikes that happen in 2x01. And I have a wonderfully angsty headcanon to propose for it.
There’s been a lot of speculation over the absence or lack of mention of Laura’s mother. One popular theory is that she died prior to the events of our main story, which could suggest why Laura’s dad seems so overly protective of his daughter, what with the bear spray, krav maga lessons and low-res flip phone.
In 1x12 Laura compares the clarity of her nightmare with “the moment right before a car crash”. This is an oddly specific example and begs the question of whether she’s experienced such a trauma in the past. And whether this could be related to her mother’s whereabouts.
So here we go: I think that Laura was involved in a car crash earlier in her life. This crash claimed the life of her mother. And she jumps every time lightning strikes because the last thing she saw before their car crashed were the glaring headlights of the oncoming vehicle. And her body still hasn’t been able to shake the jump reflex that developed as a result of that trauma.
Ugh. Lucky she has Carmilla to take care of her now…
Okay, I used this more as a theme than I did a dialogue prompt (sorry!) BUT I did set it in the Hot for Teacher verse so I hope that makes up for it!
He loves when she visits him during work hours –
loves it even more when his shift is soon to end and he can whisk her away from
the bar to a secluded booth or upstairs and into his bedroom to shower her with
the kind of affections she won’t allow in public – loves looking over to find
her chatting with one of his regulars – most he considers friends in all
honesty – or smirking almost shyly at him having been caught staring. He loves
that he can finish serving his customers and snag a few moments flirting with
her over the dark mahogany bar top before having to leave to serve again
because, though they’ve been dating for a while now – she’s slept over only
once in that time and nothing more than a little heavy petting had happened. Sex
was reserved for her house in which there were no brothers, roommates or
children present – he still gets that thrill, the fluttering of his stomach,
whenever he looks at her. It’s something he thinks will never fade.
Looking at her now, however, he feels a pang of
It’s not towards her, never towards her because, even though she’s joining in with the
conversation, he knows her intentions are as pure as her wonderful heart – the
creep hitting on her on the other hand, Robin can tell exactly what his intentions are.
He scowls over at him as he pulls down the ale pump
before returning it to its original position and repeating the motion, tilting
the glass accordingly as he goes. This man is new – it could just be that
Robin’s never noticed him before – and reeks of good education. His hair is
long, about chin-length, and slicked back from his youthful face. He’s clean
shaven and dressed in a tailored suit that screams lawyer and he’s charming if
Regina’s laughter is anything to go by. The
He’s supposed to be heading back over there, had
left his girlfriend only to serve the last regular standing with promises that
he’d call it a day the moment the last pint had been poured – it’s nearing
eleven already and though it’s not a school night (it’s Autumn half-term, both
Roland and Regina are free of school for the week), he knows she’s used to
being in bed at this time – because she was sleeping over tonight for the
second time and he was more than just a little excited knowing that she was giving
him the gift of holding her through the night and waking up to the feel of her
so close to him.
As it stands though, he’s a little hesitant to
break up their little chat. He’s not possessive and he trusts her more than
anything – she’s not flirting, she wouldn’t do that to him – but he knows what
he’ll look like because there is no way he’s going to be able to stand and
smile at this man. Instead, he exchanges the pint for money and cashes off his
customer’s order before casting Regina one last look and moving out from the
bar into the back to do an unnecessary stock take.
He looks up from the cellar floor to find her
standing in the doorway, smiling softly at him. She’s removed her jacket – it’s
folded at the end of the bar no doubt, it usually is come this time – and he
can see that she’s wearing his favourite off-the-shoulder khaki green top over
her dark wash jeans with tan boots that have her legs looking deliciously
toned. She looks absolutely gorgeous, as per usual. He tries a smile in
response but he knows it’s a piss-poor attempt. Coming down into a dark room
with only his thoughts for company as he swapped the empty barrels for the full
barrels was not a good idea.
“You okay in here?” she asks, slowly meandering
over to him with arms folded across her chest and that smile still in place.
She looks concerned and he hates that because he’s being an ass – it’s
currently only in his head but still. “You’ve been gone a while.”
His palms lift from his lap to curve around her
jean-clad thighs as he opens his legs enough to guide her closer between them.
She goes willingly and laughs softly when those hands slide up the outside of
her thighs, over her hips and around to the small of her back before he wraps
his arms around her fully and rests his head just below her breasts.
She rests one hand on his shoulder before moving
the other to thread fingers through his hair and stroke across his scalp
soothingly. “I cleaned and locked up,” she whispers gently, her thumb tickling
across his neck, “you just need to cash up and then we can go up to bed, okay?”
Her brow furrows when he only nods against her stomach and keeps a tight hold
on her. “Babe,” she scratches her nails through his hair before tugging very
gently, unable to stop the curve of her lips when he lifts his head only to
rest his chin on her sternum as he looks up at her, “what’s wrong?”
“You’re so beautiful.”
She blinks at that, his gorgeous girl, taken
completely by surprise by his statement, the fingers in his hair stilling as
she replied with a bemused “thank you.”
It isn’t enough though because “seriously,” he whispers,
“you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known and I don’t just mean your
looks.” He lowers his head enough to press his lips to the fabric covering her
stomach and tells her “you are the kindest, most loyal soul I have ever known
and I thank God for knowing you every single day.” His throat is growing thick
with his emotions but he has to get through it, has to do what’s right.
She seems to sense his distress however as she
begins “Robin, what’s-“
“You deserve more than me,” he lowers his face once
more and presses his forehead to her stomach even as he holds her tighter,
almost desperately, “you deserve far more than a barman.”
“Hey,” Regina soothes nervously before she attempts
to tease with an affectionate “I rather like my barman, thank you very much.”
When he does nothing more than press his forehead even harder against her, she
asks “what’s brought all of this on?”
He sighs heavily, shaking his head against her as
he tries to quell the urge to cry. He can’t bear the thought of losing her. “I’m
not an intellectual, Regina.” He pulls back to look at her, to find her
frowning down at him as her hands fall to rest upon his shoulders, “if I were
to apply for Mastermind, my specialist subject would be ‘Beer and Food pairing’.
I have no prospects, no ambition-“
“Let me stop you right there,” she interrupts,
shaking her head at him, “did you or did you not just break your own record for
takings this weekend alone?” she doesn’t wait for a response because they both
know that he did, they’d shared a bottle of Rioja in celebration of that very
fact, “and did you or did you not create this beautiful place from scratch,
upgrading and improving every little wonderful thing whilst also raising the
most gorgeous and polite little boy I have ever met?”
He moves to argue but she cuts him off again.
“Robin,” she laughs on a puff of breath through her
nose before lifting her palms to his cheeks, “you are the most wonderful man I
have ever known and it is I that is
lucky to know you.” She shakes her
head, “you came into my life at the very moment that it almost fell apart. I
don’t know how I would’ve coped with my father’s death without you,” the
mention of it still has her tearing up, her bottom lip quivering, “you kept me
going and you kept me strong and I will never be able to thank you enough for
that.” She lowers her head down to press her forehead to his as she whispers, “you
are it for me, barman,” glad when he finally chuckles at her teasing, “and don’t
you ever think otherwise.”
Hey guys, you might’ve seen the Starbomb music video I worked on finally came out! I boarded and keyed it! The lovely folks at Studio Yotta did inbetweens, colours, backgrounds and even additional animation (turning scribbly boards into beautiful animation from scratch).
Figured I should share some of my favorite shots that I keyed!
I feel like I belong in a deep dense forest, by a huge cliff face meeting the ocean. I’d go cliff diving and swim in the deep blue water for hours, lounge on the shore and just be free and away. I’d have a huge treehouse up in the canopy, with sky light windows and a huge deck metres off the ground where all kinds of animals would come by and I’d feed them and talk to them. I’d smoke weed, write a whole lot, make beautiful food from scratch and just live.
i just made my boyfriend a blackberry pie for his birthday because he doesn’t really like cake and it exploded because I put too much filling and it looks really ugly and then i tried to put a candle in it and it melted so now there’s melted wax in it too
As he passes people walking down the side-street, Bill notices vivid colors in their faces. He saw intricate details in the brick walls and the weeds that he must have passed many times but never noticed. The air smells different. The world seems brighter somehow. Everything is strangely vivid. The sun is warming his face. The whole world is clumsy and beautiful and new. It’s like he’s been sleepwalking for god knows how long, and something has violently shaken him awake. He’s never really apreciated these things; all this detail he’s never noticed. He’s alive. He’s alive. The stars rattle something deep within him. He’s alive. He wants to stop people in the street and tell them ‘Isn’t this amazing? Isn’t everything amazing?’ He’s alive.
I put the
apple pie in the oven and did a quick celebratory dance in the kitchen. I was
not a cook, but I had managed to get this pie right. It was going to be
beautiful, made from scratch with just the right amount of cinnamon. It just
needed to bake.
Now it was
time to clean up. I had made an enormous mess. I gathered all the apple
peelings and threw them in the garbage, piled the mixing bowls and utensils
into the sink to be washed, and turned to the small kitchen island.
rolled the dough, I had gotten flour everywhere. There were huge piles of it on
either end of the workspace, with a thick dusting covering the entire counter.
I was standing there, contemplating the best way to clean it up, when Dean
What happened here?” His voice made me jump, and as I whirled around, I grabbed
the island and accidentally stuck my hand in one of the flour piles.
Slightly frustrated, I walked over
to Dean and smeared some of the flour onto his freckled nose. “I was trying to
surprise you. There’s a homemade apple pie in the oven. Happy birthday, babe!”
I leaned up to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
Dean grinned with excitement,
looking much younger and more innocent than he was. “Really?” He sounded as
excited as he looked.
I couldn’t help myself. I raised my
flour covered hand again and smeared more flour, this time across his whole cheek.
He looked surprised at first, but his eyes narrowed at me as I giggled.
Slowly, he inched toward me, his
muscles tensed and a dangerous gleam in his green eyes. I stood still for a
moment, trying to decide the best course of action, before turning and
sprinting toward the kitchen door. In no time, a strong arm wrapped around my
waist from behind, lifting me up and pulling me back into the kitchen. Dean’s chest
was warm and solid against my back.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re going
anywhere,” he growled. I felt his other arm move, and suddenly he smashed his
hand into my face, a fist full of flour exploding everywhere. I squealed and
laughed, struggling against Dean as he held me even tighter.
Dean set me down and turned me to
face him. “You’re kind of adorable all covered in flour.”
“So are you,” I replied. I bit my
lip and stared at him with what I hoped were “please kiss me” eyes. As he
leaned in, I quickly grabbed the last big handful of flour on the counter and
ran my hand through his hair, showering flour all down his face and shoulders.
I couldn’t contain my laughter at how silly my strong hunter looked at the
Dean froze, then looked down at his
covered t-shirt and shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to take this off.” His
voice was gruff, with a sexy tone that I felt in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly,
I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. He pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and
tugged it over his head. I watched with an open mouth as his muscles rolled
with the movement, hard and strong beneath his smooth skin.
Dean knew what he was doing to me. Luckily,
he didn’t make me wait. He hooked a finger through one of my belt loops and
pulled me into his arms. Within seconds, he had tugged off my shirt and jeans.
He grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the clean kitchen table, leaning down
over me to claim my mouth with his. His kiss tasted sweet, despite the flour
covering his full lips.
The kiss was deep and passionate,
leaving us panting and clawing at each other. I pulled his jeans down a little
more roughly than necessary and let out a deep sigh at the perfectly sculpted
man standing before me.
Dean pushed me down to my back and
trailed his tongue down my neck, between my breasts, down my stomach, then
grazed his teeth on the skin above my underwear. He grabbed my panties between
his teeth and tugged them down, running his hands up my legs to remove them
completely. Kissing his way up my inner thigh, he licked up the very heat of me
to my clit, just once, then leaned back.
“Dean…” I whispered in a needy
voice. “Don’t tease.” I reached out for him as he positioned himself between my
legs and slid into me.
God, I would never get used to how
good he felt. Neither of us was in the mood to go slow, and I wrapped my legs
around him as I rolled my hips up to meet each deep thrust. All the muscles in
my body tensed up as Dean continued to push me closer, and I dug my fingers
into his shoulder blades. “Yes…please, Dean…” I was practically begging.
Dean’s hand slid over my breasts,
then down past my stomach, lower and lower until he was drawing circles on my
clit. Jolts of pleasure coursed through me, and I called his name as I came
around him, trembling, my skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. I could feel
Dean gently biting my shoulder as he came, too.
Eventually, Dean raised his head to
look at me. I smiled through my happy haze at him, covered in flour, his hair
mussed and his green eyes sparkling.
He kissed me softly, whispered “I
love you” against my lips, and my heart fluttered.
The oven timer rang out, and I
smiled. “Happy birthday, Dean.”
*WARNING, a long rant with a multitude of swear words approaching*
So I started watching my first anime, Fullmetal Alchemist ‘03, about 2.5 years ago. Right after I finished that I watched FMA:Brotherhood. After that I watched it all again…I love this show to death and it will forever be my favorite.
I didn’t really know much about Tumblr back then except it that was a blogging site so I mainly browsed on Pinterest.
One day about a year ago I was going through some FMA/FMAB boards that I followed and I saw this beautiful piece of art drawn by @fennethianell I could not stop staring at it’s sheer beauty. After that I made myself a Tumblr.
These people are sunshine children and are made of fairy-dust and rainbows.
So why the FUCK are people being so mean and rude to them?
@zeldarockbell is the one who inspired me to follow through with designing my own OC. I saw all of her gorgeous pictures of Zelda and I thought, “Wow, this artist is amazing and she is ~5 years younger than me! If she can do it so can I!”
Why are people saying horrible things to her and making her sad? Seriously what do you gain by making someone else sad? Really I want to know what you gain from pulling this shit?
These artist do NOT deserve to be treated this way. They are making these beautiful pieces of art from scratch with their bare hands. This takes time and effort and a lot of practice. Then they post it on here for all of us to ogle at (well at least I do) and they don’t ask for anything in return.
If you don’t like what they are drawing, DON’T FUCKING LOOK AT IT!!! There is absolutely no reason for you to send them a message about how much you hate their stuff.
I’m not really mutuals with any of these people and it still breaks my heart to watch them go through this. Like seriously I was about to cry when I saw @zeldarockbell ‘s art about what people are saying to her.
Sorry this got longer than I thought. I really just wanted to tell you artists that you are amazing, keep doing what you are doing, and ignore the losers comments.