So i’m moving out on my own soon and my dad wants to make sure i know how to cook and he just called me downstairs and threw an apron at me and was like “WELCOME TO CHOPPED”
Ok my mystery ingredients are: canned potatoes, frozen spinach, frozen green beans, and tilapia
And he shoved them all under a cake platter so he could do a dramatic reveal
He keeps referring to himself as Tim Allen and idk if he’s trying to be funny or if he is just confused as to what Ted Allen’s name is
HE JUST YELLED “SUDDEN DEATH” AND PULLED A BAG OF WALNUTS OUT JFC DAD TED ALLEN WOULD NEVER DO THIS TO ME
Alright so we’re doing Walnut Crusted Tilapia on a Bed of Spinach with a side of Microwaved Green Beans and Canned Potatoes. Gourmet cooking at its finest.
He has been narrating everything I’ve done and whenever I’m about to fuck up he runs to the kitchen table and pretends to be a judge like “Interesting choice preheating the oven to 300°…I’d do it to 350°”
My dad told me I only have three minutes left but I think he said that three minutes ago so idk if he’s serious? IDKIDKIDK EVERYTHING IS A BLUR RN AND I HAVENT EVEN PLATED WHAT AM I DOING ON TUMBLR
Ok so apparently “throwing things on the plate in a panic” isn’t plating, but it tasted really good. Also, I didn’t get chopped, but my dog did because she wouldn’t stop barking at the neighbor.
I feel so accomplished and idk I think I’m ready for the actual show keep an eye out for me, guys
This is actually such great dadding
(via thepainofthesass)
Anonymous asked: Psst John and Alexander meeting in your Hamilton Reincarnation fic series?
WOO, I am literal Laurens/Hamilton garbage, tell your friends.
All In One Spot AU
John has been at Columbia for a year and, honestly, he’s starting to think that he was wrong, that no one else is here. He walks past the law center every chance he gets, and he doubles the time of the walk from his dorm to the natural sciences building every single day to pass Hamilton Hall. The statue is…reassuring, somehow, Alexander’s fine-drawn face cast in bronze and a quill in his clever fingers. When John’s tired, or he’s had a bad night, full of nightmares with bayonets jumbled in with cars, the cinch of a noose tangled with the static of a television, he’ll stop and look at the statue until he can breathe again.
It’s not all bad. John is in New York City, and he finally gets where Alexander was coming from all those years ago, this might legitimately be the greatest city in the world. It sure beats South Carolina, hell and gone. He’s introduced himself to everyone as John, here, and even admitted to a handful of people that he was a soldier in the Revolution. He doesn’t have any close friends, but he doesn’t have any enemies, either, and the handful of familiar faces who see him when he quietly attends a Pride parade don’t say a word. He’s taken a handful of prerequisites for a biochem degree, in the pre-med track—he always wanted to be a physician last time, and his father is too distant to fight him this time.
He spends a little money on a sketchbook or two, on a set of pencils, and draws old faces, tries to imagine them in the modern world. Lafayette, eyes bright and smiling, dressed in a suit. General Washington, hands folded behind his back—no matter how many times John tries to give him a modern military uniform, his long heavy coat takes shape. Aides and friends and soldiers whose faces he half-recalls, in t-shirts and jeans and flannels. And Alexander, a thousand times Alexander, Alexander in modern clothes, in his Continental Army uniform, in shirtsleeves, in the coat he wears in the statue. A few times, in the safety of his locked single room, John carefully sketches Alexander stretched out in their cabin at Valley Forge, lit in candle-flame and all smooth planes of muscle and skin, smiling at John, soft and sated. An entire sketchbook fills itself with Alexander, over John’s first year at Columbia.
@words-writ-in-starlightmy fav trope is like, nonhuman characters not understanding human needs/customs but still being super supportive of their human companion
“look what I found while exploring this planet’s surface!” “kilrak please I’m trying to sleep” “ah yes your human circadian rhythm. *stage whispering* I am supposed to be quiet during this time in your rhythm, yes?”
“the book I purchased on ragnok V says humans require physical touch when upset. therefore, I shall engage in a ‘hug’ with you.” *supremely awkward five-armed hug ensues*
*human sneezes* “OH MY GOD SIL'EEN GET THE MEDIC OUR HUMAN IS DYING”
“this pamphlet I received recently says that humans require companions and packmates in the form of small earth creatures. you should have told me this before we departed earth, but it is no worry. we will have to stop at the next trade planet to get you one of these ‘cats’ or ‘dogs’.”
imagine the aliens really purchasing a kitten for one of their rough and world-weary scifi badass human companions and watching in helpless wonderment what ensues
“she’s been cuddling that small animal for the past fifteen minutes just going ‘kitty, kitty’. did we - did we break our human?”
a more seasoned alien puts one of their tentacles around the younger one as the rest of the team gathers to watch their human make kissy noises.
“no, kilrak,” the alien says. “we did good.”
“Human-Steve! I have heard that today is the anniversary of your hatching! According to my human culture pamphlet, it is customary to set a sugary pastry on fire while chanting your species’ growth incantation and presenting sacrifices wrapped in shiny paper. I am afraid to ask, in case this ritual is sacred and this request therefor insensitive… but may I be allowed to participate? It sounds much more fascinating than molting.”
• everyone deserves to eat
• everyone deserves a home
• everyone deserves medical treatment when they’re sick
(via permets-tu-not-permettez-vous)
[video]
[video]
das gay
(Source: roadtoeldorado, via youfightlikemysister)
missidinamenzel asked: Finals are killin me man, any way you can tell another story? You've been like my salvation this week.
hahahahaahahaha literally a year later!!! literally a year. never be my friend, i will forget to answer your emails and constantly double-book my time.
ANYWAY, someone else (@ TUMBLR: what if….you tried…..not being QUITE so bad at messaging??? just a thought!!!! just an idea to try.) asked me for another Boarding School Story™ and i was racking my brain trying to think of something, because contrary to what i feel like might be popular belief, i didn’t get up to too many hijinks in high school.
i mean i was in our version of detention a lot but that was for things like “skipping breakfast” and “being late always” and “writing an inflammatory speech about how unfair it was that we had to eat breakfast in the dining hall when we could be using that time to SLEEP” and “dyeing my hair with bright streaks against the express written rules of the student handbook”.
- okay in hindsight i was actually….. in detention….. a lot.
- they used to email our parents every time we were in detention and it got to the point where my mother emailed our dean of students and asked if, to save time, she was only emailed when i WASN’T in detention.
- but i feel like i wasn’t a troublemaker???
- like okay objectively i was…in trouble often but–
the POINT IS, my young and very gentle delinquency aside, the only time i was ever in like, real trouble is the time that my boyfriend and i got stuck on the roof of the boys’ locker room in the football stadium.
i guess the important background info here is that where was an hour every night between study hall and final dorm sign-in that students were allowed to leave their dorms and ~mingle with one another, though there were all kinds of rules about where you could and couldn’t be.
- school was like “you have to be in a lighted area” and students were like “lmao.”
- there was also a hilarious rule during co-ed visitation on the dorms that you had to have “your door open and everyone had to have at least one foot on the floor at all times” which is an adorable way to try and curtail the Teenage Get Down.
anyway, the boyf and i were looking for a cool fun place to hang out and talk about, god, i don’t know, whatever it was that we talked about.
a few things about this boyf:
- we had a spanish class together and he was very tall.
- he had a lot of other good qualities, including “he was so nice to me all the time even when i was horrible” and “excellent deadpan” but my initial interest was because he was SO. VERY. TALL.
- a pretty good summary of our relationship as a whole was that he called me to be like, “hey, we’ve been….talking a lot…….i was wondering what you were trying to do with that” and i was like “uh———i wasn’t——i like—-UHHHHHHHHHHHH” and he was like, “WELL DO YOU WANT TO LIKE, GO OUT??” and i was like, “SURE BUT I HAVE TO GO NOW BYE”
- ah, to be young.
so boyf and i went for a fun little adventure looking for some ~privacy and struck upon the BRILLIANT idea of scaling the locker room building and hanging out on the roof, because nothing says “romance” like “the smell of a football equipment”. so he managed to find a ladder somewhere and up we went. a lovely time was had by all until i looked down at my watch and realized i had five minutes to be back on dorm.
“oh, shit,” i said, and getting to my feet and jogging to the edge of the roof. i looked down.
“hey, boyf?”
“yeah?”
“where did you put the ladder?”
he looked up. “i left it where you’re standing.”
i looked again. #confirmed for no ladder.
“are you sure?”
“yeah, where else would i put it?”
“well, where did you get it?”
“i don’t know, i found it….on……the grass………”
- A WORD OF ADVICE: don’t ever just assume that ladders left lying around are for public use!!! they are ALMOST NEVER for public use.
“is it possible that was someone’s ladder, and they came and took it?”
- SPOILER ALERT: it was possible!!! in fact, it was probable!!!
- SPOILER ALERT #2: it was, in fact, security’s ladder, and security had taken it, assuming, of course, that two idiot students hadn’t just taken their ladder and climbed onto a roof that they 120% were not supposed to be on at 10pm.
“well,” said boyf.
“well,” i said.
“i could jump down and then catch you,” he offered.
we looked at one another. we looked down at the ground. we looked back at each other.
“you’re not THAT tall,” i said.
so, our options:
- jump off the roof.
- call for help.
- accept that we now lived on this roof forever, build a home out of what we could scavenge, and never face the consequences of our actions.
“so, do you want to just live here?” i asked. “we could be happy.”
“PLEASE HELP,” yelled boyf. “WE ARE STUCK ON THE ROOF.”
- boyf was more willing to accept responsibility for his actions than i was, which is also why he was willing to try to be friends when we broke up and i hid in my dorm room for a solid 3 months until he graduated.
after a few minutes if our shouting, security and the coach of the football team–who must have just been on duty?? i don’t think they like, called him every time there was a football stadium-related incident.–gathered at the boys’ locker room and glared up at us in the dark.
“HOW did you even get UP THERE,” shouted mr football coach.
“there was a ladder!” boyf protested. “it was right there! it was a public ladder!”
“THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A PUBLIC LADDER.”
“i’m gonna jump down,” said boyf again.
- you know, all these years later i’m still not sure if he was nobly trying to take the brunt of the scolding or just like…. really wanted to jump off the roof.
“please stop trying to jump off this roof!!!!!” i snapped.
after probably five minutes of incredibly awkward two-level scolding, in which we sat with our legs hanging off the edge of the roof and the football coach said things like, “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS,” and “WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN” and “IT IS SO EASY TO BE ANY OTHER WAY THAN THIS” security arrived with “their” “ladder” that “wasn’t” for “public use” or whatever.
- i don’t know if you’ve ever been scolded while literally looking down at the authority figure you’ve pissed off but like, it is incredibly weird.
- like on the one hand you feel like you have all the power, because you’re like “LOOK AT THE TINY PEONS BELOW ME,” but also you know logically that you don’t have all the power and you have to at least look contrite because in 5 minutes you’ll be on the ground and then the authority figure will hold all the cards again.
- also it just feels rude to have your shoes dangling above an authority figure’s head but like, what else are you supposed to do?? it’s weirder to stand???
- standing feels aggressive when you’re on a roof looking down???
- EMILY POST CAN YOU WEIGH IN HERE
boyf and the football coach walked me back to my dorm.
“uh, bye,” i said, feeling for some reason like i would never see boyf again and we were both going to prison.
“GOODNIGHT,” said the football coach. “YOU WILL BE HEARING FROM THE DEAN.”
*********
“you can see why it might seem….to outside parties…..like you were on the roof for……private reasons,” said the dean, scolding both boyf and i outside the chapel just to remind us that we had let not only ourselves down, but also probably jesus.
“WE WERE STARGAZING,” boyf and i said in tandem.
“but you can SEE why it might SEEM like you were doing something ELSE,” the dean said. “if it happens again i’ll call your parents.”
“if it happens again i’m totally jumping off the roof,” boyf whispered to me when the dean had turned away.
“OH MY GOD,” i said.
A request from @littlestartopaz: Polaris AU set in the American Revolution?
AHAHAHAHA YES. This turned into kind of an ode to Ade North, the woman in command of Polaris, and I have no regrets.
So Polaris is a covert part of the colonial army, stealing patriots out from under the noses of the redcoats. Ade North—North for the star, North for the sky, North for freedom—is a grim-eyed escaped slave, and she knows the risks of what she’s about to do, but she storms straight into the base outside New York City. The General—slave-owner, she diagnoses immediately, at a glance—isn’t the first one she finds, but rather a hot-tempered red-haired captain who grins at her when she tells him that I just walked through gunfire to get here, boy, do you think I’m about to run because someone might try and hang me? He vouches for her, and some strings are pulled, and…well. Her old master is a Tory. She’s not afraid of taking advantage of double-standards when they’re held out to her in both hands. And Ade North has never in her life backed down.
I scrolled back as far as I could on the tag for “The Cask of Amontillado” and I still can’t find a single reason why everyone’s posting about it all of the sudden
Look a little bit further, in the very back
My friend, I must confess I still cannot see it in the dim light of the tumblr search function.
don’t worry it’s definitely back there look closer
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)