checkerboardom asked:



And I have so many questions!

First of all, when is Reverb coming back because he made a lot of promises to Vibe that would seem a little silly and full of himself (which he is an love it) if that’s how he ends. I mean the way Killer Frost and Death Storm Skittered away from his evidence enough of how that can’t be it for him. 

Secondly, what’s his make up routine because he was looking so good! I’m pretty sure we use the same color foundation. And is it me, or did his skin have a subtle gold glow, like even for Earth 2 standards? I’m pretty sure Reverb puts on glittery bronzer before he goes out to wreck shit.

Third, his speech pattern, which was giving me some distinctly Leonard Snart ish vibes. Everyone knows I kind of hate that overdramatic drawl, but on E2 Cisco it was like meant. to. effing. be.

Fourthly, his uniform! I knew Cisco would look good in leather, I’ve always said so. I would like to thank who ever is listening for that jacket.

And the hair!!! ugh Our lil Cisco may hate it, but I just loved everything about it. And him.

Ugh in total, this episode had nowhere near enough Ciscos for my liking but damn what they did have killed me resurrected my ass in the same breath. I just can’t stress enough how this cannot be the last we see of Reverb

[Continued from here]

It’d be a lie to say the other’s random appearance didn’t nearly scare the life out of Umbra as he suddenly found himself skittering away from a…


Oh, not another one.

However, this one appeared to be injured. Severely at that. The Shadow nearly laughed at the thought. Nevertheless, as much as he hated fragments, he still approached carefully while crouched low to the ‘ground’ beneath his feet.

Was this one even conscious? He appeared to be broken into pieces. He pondered the possibility of ending the Fragment’s life just to spare him the torture of what pain he was likely in.

Would he be functional enough to understand his signing or must he try to speak? Only one way to find out, he supposed. He blew out a sigh as he stopped only a few feet from the fragment, and carefully extended an inky black hand to gently prod his arm.



Sometimes, talk isn't the answer.

The PC’s are investigating a house for the disappearance of a detective:
Me: There’s a cockroach skittering along the ground among the debris.
Cleric: Take my language helmet and talk to it!
Me: Are you sure you want to do this?
Ranger: (already putting helmet on) Yes!
Roach: (quiet and muffled talking noises)
Roach: (tiny screaming)

My Wife is the Universe made sapient

and it can be a little frustrating.

We’ll be having a conversation like any other couple. But if I happen to stare at my Wife for too long, the cognitive basin that captures my everyday sensory experiences as an ordinary human begins to churn and distort–

My skull becomes a windtunnel for the most unfathomable sounds of atmospheric space: Star-eating chasms of End Time howl in unimaginable sound registers right behind my eyes. I start floating through my skin. I am untethered from my body.

My faculties begin to unravel; the neurological limits of my human comprehension can’t make sense of what it sees– what my Wife is. In the corner of my eye, something black leaks through the seams that hold the laws of reality together. It blisters and gapes, but I can never look directly into the wound; it skirts my view like skittering insects on the carcass of the rational mind.

And then I tear my eyes away from my Wife. And the physical sensation of violently plummeting back into my bones pulverizes the oxygen from lungs like an airlock failure. That unearthly howling in my ears returns to vascular blood, and it thunders of my human frailty.

Still, the sex is beyond description. My Wife’s mouth carves out my subatomic obliteration beyond the mist of blood and flesh, and for millennia, I inhabit the spaces between what and when; I watch the dying Red Giant swallow all that exists in the observable universe. And with that tongue, I am remade–

but we can’t go to restaurants together which kinda sucks

I Only Have Eyes For You

Happy Birthday @ackersoldier! I was tasked to write porn, and someone wearing eye make-up to good effect for the first time. A No Name AU. No warnings but there is a bit of smut. 3.2k.


Despite what Jean had claimed all through high school, Eren was not joined to Mikasa at the hip. Armin’s scholarship had included accommodation, so it made sense for the other two members of their trio to share a flat and living expenses. But they didn’t keep tabs on each other; they were were doing different majors and going to college had broadened both friends’ circles.

So Eren barely looked up when he heard the front door close and two sets of footsteps in the hall. He was concentrating. Astrophysics was hard, dammit, and not being a natural genius like the rest of his class seemed to be sometimes, Eren had to work at it to keep his marks up.

His brain skittered to an abrupt halt when he heard a deep, familiar voice answer Mikasa.


It wasn’t one of Mikasa’s karate club friends. It was her brother.

Keep reading


Today Fresh Air producer Sam Briger interviewed Mission Chinese chef Danny Bowien

Here’s a recipe from his new cookbook: 

Chongqing Chicken Wings  

It’s well known that the sign of a great dish is its ability to silence a large group of noisy people, enraptured by what they’re eating. All you hear is slurping and crunching, silverware against plates, chopsticks clicking. When the dish in question is la zi ji, the predominant sound is a soft rustling, like dry leaves skittering across a sidewalk. It is the noise made by diners sifting through a monstrous pile of chiles in search of golden brown bits of chicken hidden in the sea of red.  

I’ve encountered versions of la zi ji, a dish most commonly traced to the Sichuan city of Chongqing, that are 95 percent chiles, 5 percent chicken. Some people balk at the idea of going to a restaurant and paying for a plate of food that is mostly inedible. To serve la zi ji at Mission Chinese, I needed to up the chicken-to-chile ratio.  

Chicken wings to the rescue.  

I’ve been pursuing the ideal chicken wing for most of my career. I’ve dabbled in all manner of elaborate wing practices. I’ve cured wings, confited them in chicken fat, smoked them, and sous-vided them. I’ve been close a few times, but I’d never really settled on a method until I spoke to a friend whose mom worked at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo. The Anchor Bar is the supposed home of the original Buffalo wing. I prodded my friend, trying to get her to ask her mom for their secrets. Eventually I pried out of them that the key to a perfect chicken wing is to treat it like a French fry: parcook it, freeze it, and fry it. The freezing causes the liquid in the skin to expand and burst the cell walls, resulting in perfectly thin, crisp skin without any breading. Once I learned this technique, I never looked back.

This is how a lot of things work at Mission Chinese. We talk to people with a history of doing things right, and we learn from them. Then we consider how we can add something to what they’ve taught us, improve on it, make it our own. In this case, the addition of fried tripe to a plate of chicken wingsis giving your guests 110 percent. I like mixing proteins and layering similar textures. Here, on the same plate, you get the crackly skin of chicken wings, still juicy on the inside, as well as the crunchy chew of fried tripe. Plus the papery toughness of those chiles, which, I should mention, you don’t eat. Please stop coming to the restaurant and eating the chiles.

Note: You need to parcook the wings a day ahead, so don’t start this recipe on Sunday morning thinking you’ll have wings in time for football.

3 pounds chicken wings (either mid-joints or whole wings)

¼ cup kosher salt, plus more as needed

½ cup vegetable or peanut oil, plus 8 to 10 cups for deep frying

½ pound honeycomb tripe

½ cup cornstarch, for dredging

4 cups dried Tianjin chiles or other medium-hot red chiles, like chiles Japones

About ¾ cup Chongqing Wing

Spice Mix (recipe follows)

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

2. In a large bowl, toss the wings with the salt and ½ cup oil. Spread the wings out on a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Bake the wings for 15 minutes, or just until the skin appears cooked but not browned. Let the parbaked wings cool to room temperature, then lay them in a single layer on a baking sheet and freeze, uncovered, overnight.

3. The next day, clean the tripe thoroughly under cold running water, scrubbing vigorously to remove any grit. Put in a pot, cover with cold salty water by 2 inches, and bring to a boil over high heat. Boil for 10 minutes, partially covered, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 2 to 3 hours, until the tripe is very tender. Drain in a colander, rinse under cold water, and cool completely.

4. Meanwhile, retrieve the wings from the freezer and allow them to thaw at room temperature for 1 to 2 hours.

5. Slice the cooked tripe into strips about ½ inch wide and 2 inches long. Set aside.

6. In a deep pot or a wok (or use a deep-fryer), heat about 4 inches of oil to 350°F. Meanwhile, pat the tripe strips dry with paper towels, then dredge them in the cornstarch, shaking off any excess. Working in batches, if necessary, deep-fry the wings and tripe for 4 to 6 minutes, or until golden and crispy. They should cook in about the same amount of time.

7. Meanwhile, toast the Tianjin chiles in a hot, dry wok or skillet for about a minute over high heat, stirring continuously so the chiles cook evenly. Transfer to a plate.

8. Drain the fried wings and tripe, shaking off as much oil as you can (or let them briefly drain on paper towels). Then transfer to a large bowl and dust them generously with the spice mix, tossing to coat. Add the toasted chiles and toss well. The chiles will perfume the dish, but they aren’t meant to be eaten.

9. To serve, transfer everything—aromatic chiles and all—to a serving platter and present to your awestruck and possibly terrified guests.

Chongqing Wing Spice Mix


2 tablespoons whole Sichuan peppercorns

2 tablespoons cumin seeds

2 teaspoons fennel seeds

2 star anise

2 black cardamom pods

1½ teaspoons whole cloves

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons sugar

1 tablespoon kosher salt

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons Mushroom Powder (page 299)

2 tablespoons cayenne pepper

Toast the Sichuan peppercorns, cumin seeds, fennel seeds, star anise, cardamom, and cloves in a dry skillet over medium heat, stirring continuously until fragrant. In a small bowl, combine the toasted spices with the sugar, salt, mushroom powder, and cayenne.

In a spice or coffee grinder, grind the spice mix to a powder, working in batches if necessary. The spice mix will keep in an airtight container for about a week before losing much of its potency.

Mushroom Powder

This is the gentleman’s MSG. It’s umami incarnate, in powdered form. It makes dishes more savory, but since it’s made primarily of powdered dried mushrooms, it lacks the stigma—unwarranted or not—of MSG. You can find mushroom powder at Asian markets or online, usually from Taiwanese producers. But a slightly less potent, and less mysterious, version is easily made at home. I wouldn’t recommend making this in a large batch, as the flavor dissipates over time.


1 (1-inch) square dashi kombu ½ ounce stemmed, dried shiitake mushrooms

Toast Use a pair of kitchen shears to snip the kombu into 4 or 5 smaller pieces, then grind it to a fine powder in a spice or coffee grinder or blender. Transfer to a bowl.

Grind the mushrooms to a powder and combine with the kombu. Store in an airtight container at room temperature. Like ground spices, this begins to lose its potency immediately.

Photos and recipes courtesy of Harper Collins. Photo of Chef Bowien by Alanna Hale.

up through the mountains of

up through the mountains of ______

(where every step is uneven and uphill.)

the sun gradually dies, gasping silently, falling slow.

it has sent fog and cloud children laughing around us, skittering, chattering, whispering unintelligably.

(they dance a nightmare scene until fading into our dark memories.)

water droplets replicate themselves from the surrounding mist and fall on our masked face.

upon a ledge we sit, uncomfortably, shifting numbly. we wait for daylight.

always on edge. cornered.

a crash of everything to the seething, screaming ocean below.

a deep and thunderous (wonderful) ______

eyes skitter past each other;
heat rises to our faces at the thought of
accidentally catching someone
in a moment of openness,
accidentally seeing someone
in the midst of regular, shallow life.
—  autumn leaves in may // introspectacles

A heavy rainstorm had blown in, drawing out all sorts of animals. Worms surfaced from the mud, crawdads skittered up from creeks, and a very large snake had come up from a lake.

He slithered through the forest, looking for something to eat. Nothing really caught his eye….