#Homemade coffee creations

[sincerelysaturday]

Indulge in Fall Bliss: How to Make a Better Than Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte at Home

I am going to be 100% honest. I HATE pumpkin spice lattes. So why am I writing a blog post on the pumpkin spice latte? Because I love Cambodian iced coffee and Chai so I married the two to make a pumpkin spice sauce that is so freakin delicious I put it on yogurt, oatmeal, and ice cream. It is in my opinion the best pumpkin sauce you’ll ever try! There’s something undeniably cozy about sipping on…

[b14augrana]

Nenita

You plan a surprise for Irene’s birthday

Irene Paredes x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings needed!

A/N: in honour of irene’s birthday, i decided to write a little fic. there will be a new section in the scrubber masterlist for all the blurbs about cute moments with scrubber and the girls! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Your calendar was very significant. You marked off your birthday, upcoming matches, Christmas, but most importantly… all your big sisters’ birthdays. Each of their birthdays were marked on your calendar in pink glittery gel pen.

You were giddy the night before their birthdays, probably even more excited than they were. Tonight, it was Irene’s big day that you were looking forward to as you laid on your bed stomach-first, filling in a card you made yourself.

Birthdays were a big deal for you because it was probably the most appropriate time to tell someone just how much you loved them.

Your captain was a very special woman. She was your second mother, mentor, and friend, all in one. Everyone needed an Irene in their life, but unfortunately there was just one, and not-so-unfortunately, she ended up with you and your team.

Those were the words you wrote on her card before sealing it in the envelope. With a smile, you placed it on top of the neatly wrapped gift stashed in your closet… that was piled on top of what looked like a dozen more.

The morning of the 4th of July, you were up before Irene. Carefully and quietly, without hitting the walls with your tower of gifts, you walked out of your bedroom with them and placed them on the coffee table. You placed your card in front of them and scrambled to the fridge to pull out the cake you made for her.

You weren’t a professional baker, but you knew how to make simple things like a cake. Irene loved red velvet cake, so when you stacked it all together with a homemade cream cheese frosting you had worked all week on (almost) perfecting, the end product was a birthday cake. You decorated it with the help of Fridolina, using sprinkles and cake toppers she had chosen, then two big ‘3’ candles right in the middle.

You were proud of your cake, even if it wasn’t the best. You figured that it would be nice to test out your baking skills instead of buying a red velvet cake that already cost you an arm and a leg without extra decorations.

Your culinary creations didn’t stop there. Next on the menu was french toast that you dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup, and garnished with strawberries and blueberries. It made you feel like a proper chef, and once you finished constructing your meal, you looked at it in pride. It almost looked good enough to go in your stomach.

“Irene,” you whispered, nudging her bedroom door open as you carried her breakfast and a cup of coffee into her room, on a tray. Your grin was hardly containable.

She rolled over, looking at you through squinted eyes. Her expression brightened and her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she sat up while a smile flashed across her face.

“Meu nenita, moltes gràcies,” she replied, her smile widening as you placed the tray on her lap and put the coffee on her bedside table.

“After you eat, come to the living room. I have to give you something!” you chimed, skipping out of the room and leaving the woman to eat her food.

When she emerged out of her room, you were standing in front of your gift tower with your arms behind your back and a beaming smile on your face. You moved to the side, gesturing to your gifts. “Surprise! Feliz cumple, hermana!”

Irene gasped quietly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked at you in surprise. Before even paying another thought to her gifts, she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you gently. “Nenita, you didn’t have to. How did you get all of this– no, how did you hide all of this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you responded, “I’ll have to do it again next year. Open the card!”

You picked up the envelope and handed it to her, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. She tore it open carefully and pulled out the card, taking a minute to read it before lowering it and looking at you with glossy eyes.

‘Dear Irene,

From the very first day I played with you in Barça, I’ve seen you as a second mother to me, away from my home. Not only do you take care of me and let me live under your roof, but you inspire me and teach me to be better than what I am capable of, on and off the pitch. I am lucky to spend my days with you; a beautiful, loving, and talented person. Being under your guidance and having you by my side during every game has made me the player I am today and I will always be grateful for having you in my life now, and hopefully forever.

Feliz cumpleaños, hermana! T'estimo per sempre.’

You were the one to initiate the hug as you wrapped your arms around her. She was quick to react and do the same, embracing you affectionately. “T’estimo, meu hermanita,” she mumbled.

Once you had pulled away, your grin hadn’t faltered one bit. “When all of the girls get here, we can have cake!”

“What do you mean, all of the girls?” Irene questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, all the girls. Alexia, Mapi, Frido, Ingrid– who else.. oh, Caro, Marta, Aitana, Lucy and Ona,” you answered, “Now go on, go get ready. The icing is going to start melting!”

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Two plates of cookies, one oval and topped with powdered sugar, and the others shaped in rings; one cookie is broken in half to show a date filling; two glasses of coffee on a silver tray are in the background. End ID]

معمول فلسطيني / Ma’moul falastini (Palestinian semolina cookies)

Ma’moul (also transliterated “ma’amoul,” “maamoul” and “mamoul”) are sweet pastries made with semolina flour and stuffed with a date, walnut, or pistachio filling. The cookies are made tender and crumbly with the addition of fat in the form of olive oil, butter, or clarified butter (سمن, “samn”); delicate aromatics are added by some combination of fennel, aniseed, mahlab (محلب: ground cherry pits), mastic gum (مستكه, “mistīka”), and cinnamon.

“مَعْمُول” means  “made,” “done,” “worked by hand,” or “excellently made” (it is the passive participle of the verb “عَمِلَ” “‘amila,” "to do, make, perform"). Presumably this is because each cookie is individually filled, sealed, and shaped by hand. Though patterned molds known as طوابع (“ṭawābi’,” “stamps”; singular طابع, “ṭābi’”) are sometimes used, the decorations on the surface of the cookies may also be applied by hand with the aid of a pair of small, specialized tongs (ملقط, “milqa��”).

Because of their laborious nature, ma’moul are usually made for feast days: they are served and shared for Eid, Easter, and Purim, a welcome reward after the Ramadan or Lenten fasts. For this reason, ma’moul are sometimes called “كَعْك العيد” (“ka’k al-’īd,” “holiday cakes”). Plates of the cookies, whether homemade or store-bought, are passed out and traded between neighbors in a practice that is part community-maintenance, part continuity of tradition, and part friendly competition. This indispensable symbol of celebration will be prepared by the women of a family even if a holiday falls around the time of a death, disaster, or war: Palestinian food writer Laila El-Haddad explains that "For years, we endured our situation by immersing ourselves in cooking, in our routines and the things we could control."

Other names for these cakes exist as well. Date ma’moul–the most common variety in Palestine–may be called كَعْك بعَجْوَة (“ka'k b'ajwa”), “cakes with date paste.” And one particular Palestinian variety of ma’moul, studded with sesame and nigella seeds and formed into a ring, are known as كَعْك أَسَاوِر‎ (“ka'k 'asāwir”), “bracelet cakes.” The thinner dough leads to a cookie that is crisp and brown on the outside, but gives way to a soft, chewy, sweet filling.

[ID: An extreme close-up on one ka'k al-aswar, broken open to show the date filling; ma'moul and a silver teapot are very out-of-focus in the background. End ID]

History

Various sources claim that ma’moul originated in Egypt, with their ancestor, كحك (kaḥk), appearing in illustrations on Pharaonic-era tombs and temples. The more specific of these claims usually refer to “temples in ancient Thebes and Memphis,” or more particularly to the vizier Rekhmire’s tomb in Thebes, as evidencing the creation of a pastry that is related to modern kahk. One writer attests that this tomb depicts “the servants mix[ing] pure honey with butter on the fire,” then “adding the flour by mixing until obtaining a dough easy to transform into forms” before the shaped cookies were “stuffed with raisins or dried dates and honey.” Another does not mention Rekhmire, but asserts that “18th-dynasty tombs” show “how honey is mixed with butter on fire, after which flour is added, turning the substance into an easily-molded dough. These pieces are then put on slate sheets and put in the oven; others are fried in oil and butter.”

Most of these details seem to be unfounded. Hilary Wilson, summarizing the state of current research on Rekhmire’s tomb, writes that the depicted pastries were delivered as an offering to the Treasury of the Temple of Amun; that they certainly contained ground tiger nuts; that they presumably contained wheat or durum flour, since ground tiger nuts alone would not produce the moldable dough illustrated; that the liquid added to this mixture to form the dough cannot be determined, since the inscription is damaged; that the cakes produced “are clearly triangular and, when cooked are flat enough to be stacked” (any appearance that they are pyramidal or conical being a quirk of ancient Egyptian drawing); that they were shallow-fried, not cooked in an oven; and that honey and dates are depicted at the far left of the scene, but their relationship to the pastries is unclear. There is no evidence of the honey being included in the dough, or the cookies being stuffed with dates; instead, Wilson speculates that “It appears that the cooks are preparing a syrup or puree of dates and honey. It is tempting to think that the cakes or pastries were served [...] with a generous portion of syrup poured over them.” Whether there is any direct lineage between these flat, fried pastries and the stuffed, molded, and baked kahk must also be a matter of speculation. [1]

Another origin claim points to ancient Mesopotamia. James David Audlin speculates that ma’moul are "possibly" the cousins of hamantaschen, both being descended from the molded "kamānu cakes that bore the image of [YHWH’s] goddess wife Inanna [also known as Ishtar or Astarte]" that were made in modern-day Syria. Other claims for Mesopotamia cite qullupu as the inspiration: these cakes are described in the contemporary record as wheat pastries filled with dates or raisins and baked. (Food historian Nawal Nasrallah writes that these cookies, which were offered to Ishtar for the new year festival in spring, may also be an origin point for modern Iraqi كليچة, "kleicha.")

The word "määmoul" had entered the English language as a type of Syrian farina cake by 1896.

In Palestine

From its earliest instantiations, Zionist settlement in Palestine was focused on building farming infrastructure from which Palestinians could be excluded: settlers, incentivized by foreign capital, aimed at creating a separate economy based around farms, agricultural schools, communal settlements, and research institutions that did not employ Arabs (though Arab labor and goods were never entirely cut out in practice).

Zionist agricultural institutes in Palestine had targeted the date as a desirable crop to be self-sufficient in, and a potentially profitable fruit for export, by the 1930s. Ben-Zion Israeli (בנציון ישראלי), Zionist settler and founder of the Kinneret training farm, spoke at a 1939 meeting of the Organization of Fruit Growers (ארגון מגדלי פירות) in the Nahalel (נהלל) agricultural settlement to discuss the future of date palms in the “land of Israel.” He discussed the different climate requirements of Egyptian, Iraqi, and Tunisian cultivars—and which among them seemed “destined” (נועדים) for the Jordan Valley and coastal plains—and laid out his plan to collect saplings from surrounding countries for planting despite their prohibitions against such exports.

In the typical mode of Zionist agriculture discourse, this speech dealt in concepts of cultivation as a means of coming into a predestined ownership over the land; eating food suited for the climate as a means of belonging in the land; and a return to Biblical history as a triumphant reclamation of the land from its supposed neglect and/or over-cultivation by Palestinian Arabs over the past 2,000 years. Israeli opened:

נסתכל לעברה של הארץ, אשר אנו רוצים להחיותה ולחדשה. היא השתבחה ב"שבעה מינים" ואלה עשוה אינטנסיבית וצפופת אוכלוסין. לא רק חיטה ושעורה, כי אם גם עצים הנותנים יבול גדול בעל ערך מזוני רב. בין העצים -- הזית [...] הגפן, התאנה והתמר. לשלושה מהם, לזית, לתאנה ולתמר חטאה התישבותנו שאין היא נאחזת בהם אחיזה ציםכר של ממש ואינה מפתחת אותם דים.

We will look to the past of the land [of Israel], which we want to revive and renew. It excelled in "seven species," and these flourished and became densely populated. Not only wheat and barley, but also trees that give a large and nutritious crop. Among the trees: the olive, [...] the vine, the fig and the date. For three of them, the olive, the fig and the date, it is the sin of our settlement that it does not hold on to them with a strong grip and does not develop them.

He continued to discuss the benefits of adopting the date—not then part of the diet of Jewish settlers—to “health and economy” (בריאות וכלכלה). Not only should the “land of Israel” become self-sufficient (no longer importing dates from Egypt and Iraq), but dates should be grown for export to Europe.

A beginning had already been made in the importation of about 8,000 date palm saplings over the past two decades, of which ¾ (according to Israeli) had been brought by Kibbutz Kinneret, and the remaining ¼ by the settlement department of the Zionist Commission for Palestine (ועד הצירים), by the Mandate government's agriculture department, and by people from Degania Bet kibbutz ('דגניה ב). The majority of these imports did not survive. More recently, 1000 smuggled saplings had been planted in Rachel’s Park (גן רחל), in a nearby government plot, and in various places in the Jordan Valley. Farms and agricultural institutions would need to collaborate in finding farmers to plant dates more widely in the Beit-Sha’an Valley (בקעת בית שאן), and work to make dates take their proper place in the settlements’ economies.

These initial cuttings and their descendents survive in large plantations across “Israel” and the occupied Palestinian territories. Taher Herzallah and Tarek Khaill write that “Palm groves were planted from the Red Sea in the south along the Dead Sea, and as far as the Sea of Galilee up north, which has given the Israeli date industry its nickname ‘the industry of the three seas’” Since Israel occupied the Palestinian West Bank in 1967, it has also established date plantations in its illegal settlements in that portion of the Jordan Valley.” Today, these settlements produce between 40 and 60% of all Israeli dates.

In 2022, Israel exported 67,042 tons of dates worth $330.1 million USD; these numbers have been on a steady rise from 4,909 tons worth $1.2m. in 1993. Palestinian farmers and their children, disappropriated from their land and desperate for income, are brought in to date plantations to work for long hours in hazardous conditions for low pay. Workers are lifted into the date palms by cranes where they work, with no means of descending, until the crane comes to lower them down again at the end of the day. Injuries from falls, pesticides, heat stroke, and date-sorting machinery are common.

Meanwhile, settlers work to curtail and control Palestinian production of dates. The Palestinian population in the West Bank and Gaza is used as a pool of cheap labor and a captive market to purchase Israeli imports, absorb excesses in Israeli goods, stabilize Israeli wages, and make up for market deficits. Thus Palestinian date farmers may be targeted with repressive measures such as water contamination and diversion, destruction of wells, crop destruction, land theft, military orders forbidding the planting of trees, settler attacks, closing of checkpoints and forbidding of exports, and the denial of necessary equipment or the means to make it, in part to ensure that their goods do not compete with those of Israeli farmers in domestic or foreign markets. Leah Temper writes that these repressive measures are part of a pattern whereby Israel tries to “stop [Palestinian] growth in high value crops such as strawberries, avocados and dates, which are considered to be ‘Israeli Specialties’.”

At other times, Palestinian farmers may be ordered to grow certain crops (such as strawberries and dates), and forbidden to grow anything else, when Israeli officials fear falling short of market demand for a certain good. These crops will be exported by Israeli firms, ensuring that the majority of profits do not accrue to Palestinians, and that Palestinians will not have the ability to negotiate or fulfill export contracts themselves. Nevertheless, Palestinian farmers continue to defy these oppressive conditions and produce dates for local consumption and for export. Zuhair al-Manasreh founded date company Nakheel Palestine in 2011, which continues production despite being surrounded by Israeli settlements.

Boycotts of Israeli dates have arisen in response to the conditions imposed on Palestinian farmers and workers. Herzallah and Khaill cite USDA data on the effectiveness of boycott, pressure, and flyering campaigns initiated by groups including American Muslims for Palestine:

Israel’s exports of dates to the US have dropped significantly since 2015. Whereas 10.7 million kilogrammes (23.6 million pounds) of Israeli dates entered the US market in 2015-2016, only 3.1 million kilogrammes (seven million pounds) entered the US market in 2017-2018. The boycott is working and it is having a detrimental effect on the Israeli date industry.

Date products may not be BDS-compliant even if they are not labeled as a product of Israel. Stores may repackage dates under their own label, and exporters may avoid declaring their dates to be a product of Israel, or even falsely label them as a product of Palestine, to avoid boycotts. Purchase California dates, or dates from a known Palestinian exporter such as Zaytoun or Yaffa (not “Jaffa”) dates.

[ID: Close-up of the top of ma'moul, decorated with geometric patterns and covered in powdered sugar, in strong light and shadow. End ID]

Elsewhere

Other efforts to foreground the provenance and political-economic context of dates in a culinary setting have been made by Iraqi Jew Michael Rakowitz, whose store sold ma’moul and date syrup and informed patrons about individual people behind the hazardous transport of date imports from Iraq. Rakowitz says that his project “utilizes food as a point of entry and creates a different platform by which people can enter into conversation.”

[1] Plates from the tomb can be seen in N. de G. Davies, The tomb of Rekh-mi-Rē at Thebes, Vol. II, plates XLVII ff.

Purchase Palestinian dates

Donate to evacuate families from Gaza

Flyer campaign for eSims

Ingredients:

Makes 16 large ma'moul and 32 ka'k al-aswar; or 32 ma'moul; or 64 ka'k al-aswar.

For the dough:

360g (2 1/4 cup) fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم / طحين فرخة)

140g (1 cup + 2 Tbsp) white flour (طحين ابيض)

200g (14 Tbsp) margarine or vegetarian ghee (سمن), or olive oil

2 Tbsp (15g) powdered sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp (10g) dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

1/2 tsp (2g) instant yeast

About 2/3 cup (190mL) water, divided (use milk if you prefer)

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

1 tsp toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Using olive oil and water for the fat and liquid in the dough is more of a rural approach to this recipe; ghee and milk (or milk powder) make for a richer cookie.

To make the bracelets easy to shape, I call for the inclusion of 1 part white flour for every 2 parts semolina (by volume). If you are only making molded cookies and like the texture of semolina flour, you can use all semolina flour; or vary the ratio as you like. Semolina flour will require more added liquid than white flour does.

For the filling:

500g pitted Madjoul dates (تمر المجهول), preferably Palestinian; or date paste

2 Tbsp oil or softened margarine

3/4 tsp dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

3/4 tsp ground cinnamon

5 green cardamom pods, toasted, skins removed and ground; or 1/4 tsp ground cardamom

Small chunk nutmeg, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

10 whole cloves, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground cloves

The filling may be spiced any way you wish. Some recipes call for solely dugga ka'k (or fennel and aniseed, its main components); some for a mixture of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and/or cloves; and some for both. This recipe gives an even balance between the pungency of fennel and aniseed and the sweet spiciness of cinnamon and cloves.

Palestinian date brands include Ziyad, Zaytoun, Hasan, and Jawadir. Palestinian dates can also be purchased from Equal Exchange. You can find them online or at a local halal market. Note that an origin listed as "West Bank" does not indicate that a date company is not Israeli, as it may be based in a settlement. Avoid King Solomon, Jordan River, Mehadrin, MTex, Edom, Carmel Agrexco, Arava, and anything marked “exported by Hadiklaim”. Also avoid supermarket brands, as the origin of the dates may not be clearly marked or may be falsified to avoid boycots.

Instructions:

For the dough:

1. Melt margarine in a microwave or saucepan. Measure flours into a large mixing bowl and pour in margarine; mix thoroughly to combine. Rub flours between your hands for a few minutes to coat the grains in margarine. The texture should resemble that of coarse sad. Refrigerate the mixture overnight, or for up to 3 days.

2. Add dry ingredients to dough. If making both molded ma'moul and ka'k al-aswar, split the dough in half and add sesame and nigella seeds to one bowl.

3. Add water to each dough until you get a smooth dough that does not crack apart when formed into a ball and pressed. Press until combined and smooth, but do not over-knead—we don't want a bready texture. Set aside to rest while you make the filling.

For the filling:

1. Pit dates and check the interiors for mold. Grind all ingredients to a paste in a food processor. You may need to add a teaspoon of water, depending on the consistency of your dates.

To shape the cookies:

Divide the filling in half. One half will be used for the ma'moul, and the other half for the bracelets.

For the ma'moul:

1. With wet hands, pinch off date filling into small chunks about the size of a walnut (13-16g each, depending on the size of your mold)—or roll filling into a long log and divide into 16-20 even pieces with a dough scraper. Roll each piece of filling into a ball between your palms.

2. Divide the dough (the half without seeds) into the same number of balls as you have balls of filling, either using a kitchen scale or rolling into a log and cutting.

3. Form the dough into a cup shape. Place a ball of filling in the center, and fold the edges over to seal. Press the dough into a floured ma'moul mold to shape, then firmly tap the tip of the mold on your work surface to release; or, use a pair of spiked tweezers or a fork to add decorative designs by hand.

4. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

For the ka'k al-aswar:

1. With wet hands, divide the date filling into about 32 pieces (of about 8g each); they should each roll into a small log about the size of your pinkie finger.

2. Divide the dough (the half with the seeds) into as many pieces as you have date logs.

3. Take a ball of dough and flatten it into a thin rectangle a tiny bit longer than your date log, and about 3 times as wide. Place the date log in the center, then pull the top and bottom edges over the log and press to seal. Seal the ends.

4. Roll the dough log out again to produce a thin, long rope a little bit thinner at the very ends than at the center. Press one side of the rope over the other to form a circle and press to seal.

5. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

To bake:

1. Bake ma'moul at 350 °F (175 °C) in the center of the oven for about 20 minutes, until very lightly golden brown. They will continue to firm up as they cool.

2. Increase oven heat to 400 °F (205 °C) and bake ka'k al-aswar in the top third of the oven for about 20 minutes, until golden brown.

Sprinkle cookies with powdered sugar, if desired. Store in an airtight container and serve with tea or coffee, or give to friends and neighbors.

[patrycarro]

TS3 - Plaza de las Flores (No CC)

ENG:

Do you need organic products to prepare your favorite recipes? Are you looking to eat healthier but don’t know where to find 100% natural and wholesome ingredients? Would you like to sell your harvests on your own terms? Or maybe you’re just searching for a peaceful spot to enjoy a cup of coffee or a snack with your family? If you answered yes to any of these questions, Plaza de las Flores is the place for you.

Like many Simmers, I love playing with my Sims in the countryside: planting, harvesting, taking care of animals, and cooking delicious homemade recipes. I’ve always felt the game was missing a marketplace where Sims could sell their hard-earned produce, relax, and enjoy a good meal. So, I decided to create one myself.

I hope all gardening enthusiasts love the result as much as I do! I wanted it to match the rustic charm of Appaloosa Plains and its warm, countryside atmosphere, and I think I managed to achieve just that.

Features:

Lot type: Community, small park

Lot size: 30x40

Furnished lot value: 83.143 §

Unfurnished lot value: 57.484 §

Packs used in this build: EP01, EP05, EP09

Requirements:

Humble Harvest Stands from the store.

Terms and conditions:

DO NOT claim my creations as your own.

If you want to use any of my builds in your custom world, you are allowed to do so, BUT make sure to credit me as the original creator.

DO NOT re-upload my content under any circumstances; share it with your friends using my own links.

If you experience any issues, let me know and I’ll try to fix it as soon as possible.

Download it here. 🤍

SPA:

¿Necesitas productos orgánicos para preparar tus recetas favoritas? ¿Quieres empezar a comer más sano pero no sabes dónde comprar ingredientes saludables y de origen 100% natural? ¿Te gustaría empezar a vender tus cosechas bajo tus propias condiciones? ¿Buscas un lugar tranquilo donde tomarte un simple café o merendar con tu familia? Si has respondido que sí a alguna de estas preguntas, la plaza de las Flores es tu lugar.

Como a muchos otros Simmers, me encanta jugar con mis Sims en el campo: plantar, cosechar, cuidar y alimentar a los animales, preparar deliciosas recetas caseras... Y siempre he echado en falta un mercadillo donde estos pudiesen vender lo que producen en casa con tanto esfuerzo y dedicación, pero en el cual también pudieran pasar el rato y comer algo, por lo que decidí hacer uno yo misma.

Espero que a todos los amantes de la jardinería os guste el resultado tanto como a mí; quería que encajase con el estilo rústico de Appaloosa Plains y su cálido y campestre ambiente y creo que lo he conseguido.

Características:

Tipo de solar: Comunitario, parque pequeño

Tamaño del solar: 30x40

Valor del solar amueblado: 83.143 §

Valor del solar sin amueblar: 57.484 §

Packs utilizados en esta construcción: EP01, EP05, EP09

Requisitos:

Puestos "La buena cosecha" de la tienda.

Términos y condiciones:

NO proclames mis creaciones como tuyas.

Si quieres usar alguna de mis construcciones en tu mundo personalizado, tienes permitido hacerlo, PERO deja claro que yo soy su creadora original.

NO resubas mi contenido bajo ninguna excepción; compártelo con tus conocidos usando mis propios enlaces.

Si experimentas algún problema, házmelo saber e intentaré solucionarlo lo antes posible.

Descárgala aquí. 🤍

[fishermanshook]

ASK: hi! i couldn't find if requests are open, sorry if they're closed rn. can i request some composer, orpheus and painter x fem/gn reader fluff?

DATE NITE!

( composer , novelist & painter ) + gn!reader

˙✧˖°🍓 ༘ ⋆｡˚ modern/celeb. au ?? , chars. are considered pretty big in the fine arts department + the world pretty much , silly little dates w/ them , ooc a bit , lower case intended , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

mundane dates for people with too much on their plate.

꒰wc꒱ 1 k

THE COMPOSER ; FREDRICK KRIEGBURG

♫ | when it comes to going on dates with the musician, he much rather prefers something more secluded. something personal between the two of you. that’s why he [politely] turns down any offers on going out to things that are known for having big crowds, like festivals or loud concerts.

♫ | it’s the little things that count to fredrick, truly. the homemade dinner has been platted and served along with dimly lit candles and rose petals scattered across the floor. it’s so romantic and fredrick can’t help but feel so loved by you.

♫ | you’ve got music playing in the background as well. and, once you finish your meal, the two of you sway and dance to the song. the composer kisses your lips and for once, it feels like it’s just you and him, and he wishes he could do this with you every night.

the composer looks at you with playful contempt. “is this my song you're playing?”

you throw your head back in laughter. “of course it is silly, I’d be mad if I didn’t play at least one of your songs tonight.”

♫ | eventually, your dancing leads you to freddrick’s piano in the living room. you sit next to him as he plays you his newest creation. it’s a masterpiece, you tell him, followed by the question of what he’ll name it. fredrick chuckles to himself before revealing to you that it’ll be named after you.

“[name]’s symphony, doesn’t that sound delightful?”

THE NOVELIST ; “ORPHEUS” DEROSS

♪ | orpheus, similar to fredrick, likes to keep things personal. not the biggest fan of crowds, but he’s been in the middle of a few big ones due to book signing. he’s not too picky about what dates you guys go on and enjoys most if not all of the outings you plan together.

♪ | so what’s better than a coffee date followed by book shopping? well, lots of things in reality. orpheus definitely participated in extravagant and expensive activities thanks to his earned riches. but a coffee date makes everything feel normal again, a simpler time when he wasn’t flooded with the need to release the next great book. it’s a great way to spend time with you, he thinks.

♪ | the date is filled with hushed whispers and silent giggles as the two of you browse the library, steaming hot coffees in hand. or maybe it’s hot chocolate in your hand. you're too distracted with reading the back of another book to let him have a better look at your drink.

↳ going to a bookstore as a date was more of a “kill two birds with one stone” kind of deal. you knew that it would be a nice way to spend time together without doing anything too grand, and orpheus gets to look for new inspiration. plus, you get to see if any best sellers catch your eye.

“ooooo I like the sound of this book! I think I’m gonna snag it for myself.”

“lemme see, I can probably get it for you.” [he’s going to steal in and read it himself when you’re not looking]

♪ | you expect him to be engulfed in the books around him, flipping through the pages and seeing what other authors have put on display. instead, he looks at you with a type of fondness only you are graced with. he brings a thumb to your lip to wipe off the excess hot chocolate around your mouth. you smile and lean into his warm embrace.

“sorry, I'm too busy looking at you to notice any of the other books. let’s pick out some more together, ‘k?”

THE PAINTER ; EDGAR VALDEN

♩ | edgar valden is widely known for his skills when it comes to painting. he’s perfected everything, he’s mastered every medium, and his inspiration is seemingly endless. that’s what everyone thinks.

↳ edgar lets you in on probably one of his darkest secrets one night, lying in bed: he hasn’t mastered every single medium there is. his inspiration runs out quicker than most would think. and yes, he hasn’t truly perfected everything when it comes to the arts [mostly saying painting]. the reality of it all rains down on him with the pressure to fulfill such beliefs, but you let him know that it’s okay not to. no one should be expected to accomplish such a feat.

♩ | that’s why little dates like these are the ones he probably cherishes the most, despite how embarrassed and anxious he is walking into the art studio.

“they were 5 dollars a person! I thought it could be nice because we could both work on our art skills.”

“[NAME] WHAT IF SOMEONE NOTICES ME?!?!?”

♩ | that’s why he’s so nervous. the edgar valden, in a beginner's art class, learning how to make pottery? don’t the people expect more of him? you tell him no and that, they shouldn’t because he’s human.

↳ legit started hiding his face at the start of the session ‘cause he was so afraid someone would comment about him being here. you had to pry his hands away from his face.

♩ | it isn’t until maybe halfway through the class he starts to get the hang of things, and you're not far behind either. his beautiful, hand-crafted bowl looks stunning, you tell him. Well, not really. it looks more like a pinch pot, but you think it’s best to keep that to yourself.

↳ neither of you is good at pottery, and it just makes learning it that much more fun for the both of you. [edgar refuses to admit smh] he’s secretly dedicated to making a vase to replace the broken one in your apartment. he’ll paint it your favorite color and doodle your favorite flowers all across it. although, he can’t say that this is looking that much like a vase…

♩ | the two of you are complete messes at the end of it. colorful paint splattered across your face along with dried clay stuck and chipped off underneath your fingernails. you walk out having done your first of many pottery classes that day.

“thank you for planning this out. I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would, really.” edgar states before leaving a fleeting kiss on your cheek.

note: his my fishies…🤭🤭🤭 hope you all are having an amazing day / night. enjoy this short little request i got <3

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[or0ch1maru]

Valentines Day with the Akatsuki<3

18+, suggestive themes

•

Kakuzu:

Hates spending money, but will go broke simply on buying your gifts and taking you places during the day.

Will literally spoil you rotten. You’ll wake up to chocolates and other assorted gifts on the empty side of bed where he usually sleeps.

After a long day full of fun, just know this grouchy giant will D you down for the rest of the night. If you’re not wobbling by the end of it, it’ll be round after round until you can’t even remember your own name.

Hidan:

This man shows his love best through physical touch and sex so don’t be surprised when you’re woken up by his tongue between your folds.

In between all the sex he plans on having with you on this special day, he’ll make you breakfast in bed, and then take you out for a shopping spree in the nearby village.

If you try on clothes in a shop, just know you’ll barely make it outside to the alleyway behind the plaza, your shorts pulled down as he stuffs you full.

Itachi:

Sweet boy. Will have one of the members keep you busy for the first half of the day so he can decorate your shared room. Rose petals, balloons, candles, the whole works.

All the gifts he bought will be lined up on the bed in pretty red and pink bags with matching gift paper. A long and heart felt message written on the inside of a card will be placed neatly in front of one of the gifts.

To end the day, he’ll either cook you your favorite meal or take you out to your favorite restaurant to enjoy a nice meal.

Kisame:

Didn’t really understand the point of the holiday as he feels that everyday should be spent cherishing and loving your partner. Not just on a specific day.

So after speaking with Konan, he ran into town and bought the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers, a case of chocolate, and a few other things that you’d pointed out to him prior.

The rest of the day would be spent wrapped in each others arms, watching movies and getting wine drunk while eating a hot, homemade dinner.

Deidara:

He’s so infatuated with you that he’d spend two weeks prior to v-day hand crafting pendants for jewelry and other little handmade gifts to give you.

Not only will your presents be hand made, so will your card. His somewhat sloppy script will cover the card front to back, explaining how much he loves you and how he wants to spend eternity by your side.

Deidara would order your favorite take out and take you on a picnic in a nearby flower field. Where when the night comes and the sky turns dark, he would send up some of his clay creations, lighting up the sky in pretty fireworks and explosions.

Sasori:

Just like Kisame, Sasori didn’t really get the whole craze about some dumb holiday. But, he wanted to spoil you nonetheless. So he told you to get dressed, which you gladly obliged.

The two of you visited a village nearby and had brunch before going to the theatre to watch a movie. After the film, he took you to your favorite shops, paying for anything and everything.

Sasori wouldn’t let you go the whole time, his hand wrapped securely around yours as you walked about. Planting soft smooches on your face as you enjoyed the day together.

Tobi:

For days before Valentine’s, he’d be so anxious, but in a good way of course. He had planned the whole day out weeks ago. Starting off by bringing you your favorite coffee and sweets for breakfast.

Repeating the same for lunch. It was after that, that he had you get all dolled up. Taking you into town for a museum date.

Good boy Tobi would finish the day with your favorite food, before stripping you of both your clothes. Buried deep in your cunt, as he whines and mutters about how much he loves you.

Zetsu:

Flowers. Everywhere. And I mean everywhere. He loves plants, and knows people gift their partners roses and such on this special day so what does he do? Buys a few different flower bouquets that end up littering your shared room. Bedside table? Yep. Bathroom counter? Best believe it.

Zetsu loves pampering you. He’d paint your nails to match his bright pink color. Sitting behind you as he brushes your hair. Applying your makeup for you if you wear any.

The two of you would take a long walk, enjoying the peace and crunch of the gravel under your shoes as you walk. Would find a nice place to sit near the water as you talked and shared a meal together.

Konan:

Just like Tobi, she’d have everything ready and prepared days ahead. Dinner reservations? Check. Nail salon date? Check. Making sure the book shop has that book you’ve been wanting in stock? Check.

After lunch in the village, it’s time for your nail appointment. The two of you sitting side by side as the nail techs paint and work on your nails. After paying, it’s time for the next stop. Konan would watch with a smile on her face when you pick up the book you wanted. Knowing she made sure the staff kept a copy specifically for you.

Konan would have rented out a private booth in your favorite restaurant. Keeping the entire area empty so you two would have your much loved privacy. Once the two of you have ordered your drinks is when she’d give you a heartfelt speech before dropping to her knee with a ring. Planting a deep kiss on your lips when you say yes.

Pain:

Would clear his schedule and make this a week long affair. Each day, you’d wake up to a new present or date planned. One day shopping, the next day, a movie. And so on.

On Valentine’s Day, he’d wake you up with soft kisses along your jawline before spending the whole day in bed. Watching your favorite movies and eating snacks. The room full of your shared laughter or screams if you watch horror movies.

Just like Tobi, he’d end the day covering your body in bite marks and hickeys. He’d take his time on you too, drawing out every orgasm, pulling moans and whimpers outta you into the early hours of the night.

•

Happy Valentine’s Day bbys🫶🏻 if no one’s told you today, you’re beautiful and I love you. Thank you for your continuous support for my writing. Here is a bouquet 💐 from me to you

[frozenfries]

Cozy Café : A VALORANT Headcanon

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written for this game, but inspiration struck at a random time. This totally hasn’t been sitting in my drafts since last January

Prompt: If the agents worked at a café, what would their roles and/or signature drink be?

Amidst the chaos of battle, a quaint café stands as a sanctuary for the weary agents. Here, they can take refuge from their high-stakes duels, and trade their weapons for aprons to pursue a different kind of mission: the art of brewing the perfect cup of coffee.

Phoenix: with his vibrant personality and quick reflexes, he’s the charismatic face of the café. Entertaining customers with his barista skills comes naturally as he conjures up dazzling coffee concoctions with a flair of his hand, a burst of flame and a confident grin. His signature drink, The Ignition Latte, is a fiery blend that invigorates even the most exhausted of patrons. Jett: agile on and off the battlefield, she brings her lightning-fast speed and precision to the café. With a swift motion of her finger, she effortlessly crafts delicate latte art, transforming each cup into its own masterpiece. Her Cloud Burst Cappuccino is a smooth delight, creating a moment of feather-light happiness for those who drink it. Viper: the formidable chemist brings her scientific expertise to the world of coffee. With a touch of her gloved hand, she infuses her creations with unique flavors and aromas, leaving customers in awe. Her Venomous Mocha is a mysterious blend that tantalizes the taste buds and leaves a lingering, addictive aftertaste. Sage: with her nurturing personality and herbal knowledge, she adds a touch of serenity to the café and its menu. Her Rejuvenation Tea is a calming infusion that restores both body and mind, providing a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of everyday. Omen: ever the enigma, he brings an air of mystery to the café. With a flick of his wrist, he conjures up ethereal and smoky concoctions, leaving people wondering how he manages to capture such unique flavors. His Shadowy Cold Brew is a chilling experience that takes customers on a journey through darkness and light. KAY/O: the robotic agent assists in the day-to-day operations of the café, precisely measuring ingredients, ensuring efficiency, and maintaining the coffee shop's cutting-edge technology. KAY/O's presence adds a futuristic touch to the atmosphere, making customers feel like they've stepped into a realm where man and machine coexist harmoniously. Sova: a master archer, you can find him behind the counter carefully crafting his signature drink, The Tracker's Shot: a potent blend of espresso and a hint of blueberry syrup, topped with a delicate foam art of a wolf's paw print. Sova takes great pride in his creation, often using it as a conversation starter with customers, enthralling them with tales of his adventures in the wilderness. Cypher: the watchful surveillance expert provides security for the establishment. He has a keen eye for detail, which translates seamlessly into his signature drink, The Watchful Eye Latte: a meticulous combination of steamed milk, a shot of espresso, and a dash of vanilla spice syrup, served with a meticulous swirl of latte art depicting an intricate camera lens.

Chamber: the polished agent with a mysterious past has a taste for the unconventional, which is reflected in his signature creation, The Trademark Mocha: a rich concoction of dark chocolate, a double shot of espresso, and a hint of cinnamon, sprinkled with a dash of edible gold glitter that gives it an otherworldly shimmer.

Astra: with the ability to infuse her cosmic energy into any environment, she can elevate even a simple drink into an otherworldly experience. The Celestial Brew starts with a base of rich, smooth espresso, followed by a fusion of steamed milk and vanilla syrup, creating a swirling galaxy effect. To top it off is a dollop of homemade lavender-infused whipped cream, a touch of stardust and a sprinkle of edible glitter.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter V: We Don’t Have to Talk About it.

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: cool about it by boygenius, pink pony club by chappell roan

summary: the celebrations for Chris’s return continue, this time with the first Corroded Coffin show in years!

a/n: everything i write in these chapters makes me want to write more LET’S GOOOO. keep an eye out for a new tab in coming chapters ;)

chapter tags: mean!eddie, mean!reader, fighting, weed, drinking, angst, hurt/no comfort, talks of adult content creation | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author!

—

You are determined to have a lazy, relaxing day off. Your brother’s gone out for a job interview, so you once again have your apartment to yourself. You start by indulging in a greasy homemade bacon egg and cheese sandwich, made on a toasted everything bagel slathered in butter. You savor it with sips of coffee consumed on your front porch, hoping your nextdoor neighbors aren’t awake yet to pollute the area with cigar smoke.

When you’re finished eating, you pluck the book you’ve been reading from its spot on the couch and make your way to the bathroom. One compromise you’d refused to make when apartment hunting: you needed a bathtub. No walk in shower bullshit. You’d gotten your wish with this old duplex, the bathroom, though a garish purple color, came with a beautiful clawfoot tub.

You let the water warm before plugging the drain, peeling off your pajamas and wrapping yourself in your soft, freshly washed robe. You have a routine on days like this. You’ll take a bath, smoke a joint and sip your coffee in the tub while you read at least three chapters before the water gets cold. You queue your On Repeat playlist, not willing to skip around every song in your library. The music sets a nice ambiance humming through your bluetooth speaker as you sink into the warm water, bubbles creating a soft blanket over your naked form. You release a sigh as you slip up to your neck, relishing in the warmth engulfing you. When your muscles feel loose, you dry your hands on the towel you’ve set aside, and pluck the joint from the ashtray. The sweet smoke fills your lungs, causing a pleasant burn in your chest. You exhale slowly, grabbing your book from the makeshift side table you’ve put together.

Currently, you’re halfway through Normal People, your copy a bit worse for wear, pages water stained and spine snapped in several places. It’s already punctured your heart a few times, you can’t help but feel frustrated for Marianne. The high buzzes pleasantly in your brain as you read, creating vivid pictures in your head from the words on the page. Marianne morphs into you, and for some reason Connell has grown long, curly locks and grown an affection for silver rings. All of this, set to the musical stylings of Boygenius in your steam filled bathroom. You’re supposed to feel at ease, but there’s a coil tightening in your belly you’re not sure how to stifle, making your chest flutter with excitement.

It becomes nearly impossible to focus on the story, so you set your book aside in favor of your phone. You’re careful to hold it above the water, scrolling through your various feeds to see what your friends are up to.

Stevie (@ thehairington): i’m never letting rob aux again for as long as i live

rob (@ lilbirdie): not MY fault ur a big baby!!!!!

b (@ babybeez): … do i wanna know what song ?

rob (@ lilbirdie): pink pony club! i thot it would be fun!!

b (@ babybeez): oh ur evil

Stevie (@ thehairington): RIGHT!!!

You giggle, imagining Steve as he and Robin drive to work, breaking down as Chappell sings, “You're always on my mind / And mama, every Saturday / I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE,” and you wish you were with them. Maybe you’ll go bother them later, once you grow tired of being with only yourself for company. You exit out of Twitter and open Instagram, the first picture when your feed loads being the last people you want to see right now. It’s a picture of Eddie, clearly taken by someone else. He’s sticking his tongue out at the camera, standing in front of The Hideout.

@ thefreakmunson: come thru tonite, corroded coffin plays at ten.

Ugh, right. It’s Tuesday. Your mother is definitely gonna call you to work tonight, and your good mood flies out the window. As if reading your mind, your phone dings, but it’s not your mother.

Eddie (block later.): Is my favorite bartender workin tonite?? ;)

You seem to stab each letter as you reply:

god i fuckin hope not.

he replies only with :(

__

It takes another hour for your mom to text you.

mama: hi honey, i know i tell you every week you can have tues off, but i just got a call from chris’s buddies telling me they’re coming to surprise him tonight. would u mind? i’ll owe u

you love your mom more than anything, but you can’t tell her you’d do it for nothing, because it’s going to be torture. Ever since Chris joined the band when Gareth went to college, you’d been avoiding working Tuesdays even more than before. The band hadn’t played their usual nighttime slot since Chris had come home, so the crowd is expected to be substantial.

yea of course mom, see u at 8

mama: thx baby bee

You look at the clock, the red lights reading 12:00 PM. Still plenty of time to go get your friends to come out tonight, despite them both having to work tomorrow. Luckily, they love you, so you don’t expect to have a hard time. You take your time getting dressed, humming along to the music as you comb your hair and do your makeup. Once you're satisfied, You migrate to your closet to pick out an outfit for tonight. Something devious plays in your brain, and you want an outfit that will draw attention. You want to look hotter than you feel, hoping to trick yourself into confidence in the face of a possibly awful night. You look hot though, in a cropped black t-shirt and form hugging jeans, and take the opportunity to post a long overdue selfie.

—

“Bee!” Robin squeals when you enter the record store, far too excited to see you.”You look hot!” Now she’s complimenting you. Something’s up.

You make your way through the long outdated shop, surrounded by walls lined with records ranging from the 60s to 90s exclusively, and a floor dusty with loose boards that creak loudly with every step. It’s a miracle this place has enough business to stay open. You like to conspire that the owner Mr. Summers is in the Mob, and this place has been his front since it opened in ‘86. You keep that in your diary only, though.

“Should I duck and cover?” You direct the question at Steve, who’s standing at the counter with a big grin on his face. “Not you, too. What’s going on?”

“You’re gonna want to kiss him when you hear this.”

“Oh?”

“Do you wanna tell her?” Robin calls over her shoulder.

“Well actually—,”

“He got us Chappell tickets.”

Your mouth falls open so fast you feel your jaw pop.

“She’s in Indy this weekend, and I happened to have some extra money from, y’know,” Robin holds her hand up, “We do not need to hear about your OnlyFans, Steve.”

Steve shrugs. “And yet, I still let you reap the rewards.”

You squint at him. “Are you doing a bit right now?”

They shake their heads, faces flushed from laughter.

“Seriously?”

“Look me up, stevethestallion.” His tone is even now, all traces of joking gone.

You call his bluff, and type the website you definitely haven’t used before into the browser. When it definitely doesn’t already have you logged in, you type in the alleged username. “One or two e’s?”

“Just one, I can’t compare to Megan like that!”

You shake your head, hitting search. The page loads. The account is behind a 25 dollar pay wall, but the visible follower count reads 35K. The profile picture is faceless, a shirtless torso with an abundance of chest hair, and the smallest hint of a happy trail. You click on it, purely for further investigation. You find your answer when you can see the faintest outline in the background of the same exact Tame Impala poster that Steve has hanging over his bed.

“Oh my fucking god. Hell yeah, dude.” You laugh, and Steve seems to release a held breath. “What, you think I'd be, like, grossed out? This is hot. And a really smart financial endeavor, apparently.”

Robin nods in agreement. “With perks!” The three of you burst into laughter.

When you’ve settled, breathing heavily to avoid lingering giggles, you turn to face them again. “Now, after this I feel even worse for asking you guys for a favor, but I’m desperate.”

“You want us to come out tonight?” Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

You straighten your back, suddenly bashful. “How’d you know?”

He clears his throat, signaling Robin to continue.

“Eddie uh, invited us out.” She rushes out.

You suck your lips between your teeth, nodding stiffly. “‘Course he did, yeah.”

“Asked me if you were working.” She adds, and you meet her gaze, panicked.

“And you said?” She shrugs. “What does that mean?”

“I literally sent him the shrug emoji.”

“I mean, you are, right?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. This is fine. Everything will be fine.”

Robin cages you in, planting a hand on each of your shoulders. “You’ll get through it. Do it for Chappell.”

You lean into the dramatics. “Of course, for Chappell.”

��

Chappell owes you, big time. Tuesdays have gone from a quiet, boring weeknight with less than five hundred dollars in the register by the end of the night. Unfortunately, those days have long since ended since you’d left for college. Every Tuesday, Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin plays The Hideout, despite your begging and pleading with your mom to stop booking them.

“I can’t!” She’d reason, “Not if you and your brother want anything to help pay for my funeral!” She was being dramatic, for the most part. But they did bring in the green, as much as you hate to admit it. Apparently a popular music reviewer had given them a shoutout, garnering them an actual audience. You‘re happy for the guys, mostly. You just aren’t in the mood to be the people pleasing, flirty bartender tonight.

It’s almost ten when the van finally pulls into the back lot. “Where the hell have you guys been?” You hiss when your brother exits the driver���s side.

“Had to make a stop.” The irritation in his voice is palpable. You motion for him to elaborate, and he jerks his head to where Eddie is opening the back door, offering his hand out to help Macy climb out. “Sat in her fuckin’ driveway for twenty minutes.”

You glare daggers at the pair of them, and Eddie must feel them on his neck because he jerks his head, eyes immediately meeting yours. You don’t let up, hoping your expression translates the rage you feel in your gut. Eddie is the first to break the staring contest, looking back to the woman on his arm. She meets his gaze with a glare of her own, and he whispers something to her that breaks her grimace into a giggle. Your palms start to sweat.

“Go, we’ll start setting your shit up. Mom’s hysterical.”

“Okay. I’ll run damage control after. Sorry, Beebs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not you that’s gonna be sorry.” You send another seething look to the pair walking to the stage door, attached at the hip and without even a halfhearted acknowledgement of their lateness. “Asshole.” You follow the rest of them inside, Chris on your heels.

“Where the hell have y'all been?!” Your mom exclaims when Chris enters the green room, a barely renovated office that fits about three and a half people at a time. You hand your brother off to be berated, and power walk to the stage to set up equipment. Your warpath comes to a screeching halt when you reach the wings, the scene playing out in front of you preventing you from moving further.

Eddie is sitting on a barstool, guitar forgotten on his lap as Macy stands over him, passionately licking into his mouth. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and he kisses her back with little restraint, the tent growing in his pants becoming obvious when the instrument begins to slide from his lap. He catches it without breaking from her, placing it on the stand next to him. You decide you don’t have time to wait for whatever this is to play out in its likely disgusting entirety, so you leave the comfort of the shadows and make your presence known.

“Ahem,” You clear your throat loudly, causing the couple to separate abruptly, each wiping the other’s saliva from their mouth. “Sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t want an entire crowd of pissed off drunks against you, you might wanna let me set up.”

“Hey, Bee.” Eddie recovers from embarrassment quickly, you’ll give him that. You nod in acknowledgment, knowing any words you give him will be laced with unnecessary venom.

“Eddie, baby, you wanna take this to the bathroom?” Macy’s tone is sultry, needy. You almost feel bad for her, being this hypnotized by Eddie’s charm. You wish you could help her, but it’s possible she’s too far gone.

“Yeah ‘course, baby. I’ll meet you there in a sec.” His gaze slides from her to where you stand across the stage, the only sounds coming from the patrons beyond the curtain.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She slinks away, hips swaying. She brushes past you, leaving the sweet stench of her perfume behind. What demon did Eddie make a deal with?

“So,” Eddie muses, rising from the stool. “You’re workin’.”

“No shit, really?”

“Hey, don’t be mean. Just makin’ small talk.”

“That’s not necessary.” You unglue yourself from the floor, busying yourself with wires and speakers as Eddie keeps talking. “Just thought, y’know, you had tonight off.”

“I did,” You bite, “but then Chris invited the whole damn state of Indiana.”

“Ah, ‘course. The third homecoming party this week for the lovable Christopher L/n, convicted felon.” He chuckles, and you stop what you’re doing to respond. Something in you snaps, quick and clean.

“Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, and he throws his hands up.

“Whoa, I was kidding!”

“Shut up, I’m talking.” His eyes bulge out of his skull. “You have the audacity to make jokes about Chris, but he could’ve brought you right down with him. You were 18, a goddamn adult. But he kept his fucking mouth shut to protect you. You know who he didn’t fucking protect? When her bullies learned he wasn’t home anymore, or when she had fucking no one on her side and the one other kid she found comfort in never called her again?” You let loose, doing your best to keep your voice even. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened, Eddie? If the roles had been reversed, and Chris had done what you did? Don’t even pretend you’d forgive him for that. There’s something else going on, and I intend to find out what it is.”

He doesn’t interrupt your rant, instead holding your intense stare with apparent ease. When you finish, he waits a beat, letting the metaphorical dust settle. Finally, he answers. “You have to let it go, Bee. There are some things you just don’t wanna know. Don’t need to know. I will never not feel guilty about what I did, but I can’t tell you anything else. I wish I could, really.”

You’re careful with your next words. “But, if I were to figure it out without your help…?”

He catches your drift. “I probably wouldn’t be able to deny it convincingly.” Eddie shrugs, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll let you set up. You gonna watch our set?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Eddie snickers. “That’s my girl.” And he walks offstage before you can react to the statement, or demand he at least pretend to help.

—

You make it back to the bar in time to save your mom from the massive line of rabid patrons.

“Where have you been?” She half shouts over the noise, pouring a glass of Guinness for one of Stan’s high school friends, Scotty, you’re almost certain.

“Setting up the stage!” You shout back, failing to hide the irritation in your voice. You turn to the booze hound in front of you. “What can I get you?”

You sense your mom moving closer, still grabbing glasses and bottles to pass across the counter. “No need for the attitude, Beebs.”

“Ugh, sorry. Just not what I wanted to be doing tonight.”

“Oh, and I just adore being here?” She nudges you until you grit your teeth, forcing a smile. “You wanna tell Mama what’s wrong?”

“Nah, not right now. We’ll dish later.” You love gossiping with your mom, but she knows Eddie. She knows what he’s like, what your past with him entails, and she’ll surely have plenty of insight for you.

As you take another order, the house lights dim and the crowd goes wild. You can’t help but turn your head towards the stage, where your brother’s friends have formed a pit in the front, whooping and hollering as the band takes the stage. Chris points to his friends with his drumstick, causing them to jump around, playfully shoving each other to get the crowd moving.

Eddie comes out last, greeted with more wild cheers, a lot of them more shrill than those given to Chris. Girls throw themselves toward the stage, offering their wombs to him like he’s Paul McCartney in the 1960s. You watch, your vision red around the edges, as he blows a kiss to Macy in the front row, and she pretends to catch it. You have to look away to keep from gagging.

—

“Thank you, Hawkins! We have been Corroded Coffin, goodnight!” The band line up across the stage, taking their bows. Next to where you stand with Robin and Steve across the bar, Macy and her gaggle of friends whoop and holler obscenities. It disappoints you, watching such a beautiful woman have her bar set so low.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your stare. “No fucking way.”

“I know, she’s stunning, don’t remind me.” You rest your chin in your hand, slouching over the bar.

“Of course she is, that’s Macy Miller!”

You blink at her, not understanding why her last name matters.

“She’s the bassist of Statuesque Dolls, they’re the opening band for Chappell’s tour!” The gleaming smile on her face vanishes when she looks at you again. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s Eddie’s latest muse, or something.” you shake your head from the thoughts of Macy onstage. She’s probably irresistible, a symbol of feminism and sex and rock ‘n’ roll.

“No fuckin’ way.” Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “He’s blackmailing her. Or something. Right?”

You shake your head. “Change the subject, Rob. Please.”

“Okay, sure. Steve is a pornstar.”

You burst into laughter. “A popular one! Good for him, really.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Good for him, sure, but what about me?! He’s my roommate, Bee!”

“Come on, you’re paranoid. He probably doesn’t film while you’re home.” She purses her lips, but doesn’t respond. “Don’t be such a conservative.”

She gasps. “How dare you!”

“Hey, ladies!” The subject of your conversation enters your huddle, a beer sloshing in his hand. “How are my most favorite people in the whole wide world doin’?” Steve’s cheeks are bright pink, stretched by his massive smile. His eyes are half closed, like it’s still too bright in the dimly lit bar.

“Someone’s not concerned about opening tomorrow.” You tease, motioning to his frothy drink.

“Oh, Melvin gave me the day off.” He beams, and Robin scoffs. “Sorry, Bob, snooze ya lose.”

“Oh, sure, ‘til I call out and he tells you to cover.” She winks before leaning over the bar to you. “Shots?”

You snort a laugh and grab the tequila off the bar. At the same time you finish pouring the third shot, a fourth figure looms over you. “You all takin’ shots?” Eddie’s eyes shine with eagerness.

“Yeah, you want?” Steve offers, and Robin digs her elbow into his ribs. You grab a fourth glass and slice of lime without a word, feeling the skin inside your mouth break between your teeth.

“Are we toasting?” He looks from your friends to you, and his expression softens. You shrink under his gaze, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said a word to him before the set.

“Um, not particularly.” Robin attempts to cut the tension, but she’s met with no response beyond a confused Steve asking, “What about, to friendship?”

Robin pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Dingus, read the damn room.”

“What?” He giggles, still not getting it. “What did I say?”

“No, Rob. It’s cool, I like that.” You hold your own shot glass up, signaling your friends to do the same. “To friendship, current and otherwise.” You chance looking at Eddie, and his eyes are already locked on you. He doesn’t look away when you catch him, only tilts his glass towards you before licking the salt from the back of his hand and downing the liquor. He doesn’t flinch, calmly reaching for the lime to relieve his palette. You follow suit, the burning nothing you can’t handle. Being a bartender has its moments, but this isn’t one of the prouder ones.

—

“So,” Your mother starts, spraying the bar with disinfectant as you finally lock the door for the night. “What happened?”

“What?” You pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about, busying yourself with a mop across the room.

“What, what? You’ve been snippy all night. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

You shrug. “Nothing happened specifically. The boys just get on my nerves is all.”

“Boys? Or Eddie?” Your mom gives you her Mother Knows All look.

“Ugh, whatever.” You don’t answer the question.

“Bee, you can talk to me. I know you’re going through a lot, your brother being home and all. You haven’t seen Eddie in, what, two years?”

“Three.”

“Three years! See, you’re taking a lot on at once. You know you can lean on me, right?”

You set the mop back in its bucket and walk over to your mom, picking up a rag and the spray bottle before moving to the tables. “Yeah, I know. But I’m sure you’re also trying to cope with your son being back, I don’t wanna add any more stress on top of that.”

“You’re my baby. Your stress is my stress, always.”

Your walls crumble at her affirmation. “It’s just, who does he think he is? He has the audacity to show his face around here after what he did! And Chris just lets him! It’s like nothing happened, and it’s pissing me off. Making me feel fucking crazy!” You usually don’t swear around your mom, but it all pours out of you. “And he talks to me like we’re buddies, like he didn’t ruin my fucking life when he sent Chris to prison.” You rub your tired eyes, awaiting your mom’s wisdom.

“Have you talked to Chris? Gotten his side?”

You roll your eyes. “I tried. He told me very little. Eddie was no help either.”

Your mom tosses her rag aside and leans her elbow on the counter. “Boys are morons, baby bee. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer something more profound. You’re talking to a divorcee, here.”

You laugh despite your mood. “Are we all just doomed? Forced to deal with this inferior species for the rest of our lives?”

Your mother chuckles. “Probably!”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj let me know if you’d like to be added!

[ginxyy]

Symphony of us

My soulmate jun

In the quiet corners of life, where the mundane dances with the extraordinary, I stumbled upon a love so tender it felt like a melody woven into the fabric of my everyday. His name is Jun, a name that carries with it the kind of sweetness that melts into the very essence of my soul. Our love story began not with grand gestures but with unexpected encounters that spoke volumes from the very first smile.

It was a Monday, the week just terrible enough to tempt fate to throw a little magic our way. I remember that day vividly; the sun was making a valiant effort to break through the thick veil of rain clouds, illuminating the coffee shop that always buzzed with energy from artists and dreamers alike. As I sipped my caramel macchiato, scanning the crowd for a glimmer of inspiration, my gaze fell upon him Jun, seated across the room, lost in a world of sketches and stray lines. His brow furrowed with concentration, lips slightly parted as if contemplating the very essence of creation.

It was an ordinary moment, yet it felt monumental. The air around him shimmered with an ethereal glow, and I found myself captivated not solely by his talent but by the aura of gentleness he exuded. Our eyes met, and I swear the universe colluded to make time stand still. In that fleeting second, my heart recognized something monumental, something I hadn’t even dared to hope for. Jun caught my gaze and, with a charming smile, broke the invisible barrier between us. My cheeks flushed a crimson that felt like the most beautiful initiation into the world of love.

Days turned into weeks, our meetings at that little coffee shop became a cherished ritual. Each encounter was spontaneous and sprinkled with delightful surprises. There was the day we challenged each other to create the most ridiculous latte art, bursting into laughter as our masterpieces turned into bizarre creatures a cat with a mustache, a heart with legs. The laughter echoed among the clinks of cups and the soft hum of conversation, and in that cacophony, two souls harmonized effortlessly.

Jun's playful nature was matched only by his artistic spirit. He had this ability to turn the simplest moments into something enchanting. I remember the first time he invited me to an impromptu picnic in the park. It was dusk, the sky painted in hues of purple and gold, a canvas worthy of our dreams. He packed homemade sandwiches, infused with love, and I had brought my favorite blanketa well-worn quilt that carried whispers of laughter from countless past adventures.

As we sat beneath a sprawling cherry blossom tree, petals swirling around us like confetti, Jun plucked a flower and tucked it behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin just a moment longer than necessary. My heart raced at the touch, an electrifying connection that felt like a promise. We shared stories, our dreams intertwining under that vast twilight sky. The world around us began to fade, leaving only us, encased in our bubble of laughter and hope.

Oh, the little moments we cherished! Like when we wandered into a vintage store one rainy afternoon, soaking in the scent of nostalgia. I spotted an old record, and before I knew it, we were dancing as if the world had ceased to exist, spinning in blissful abandon amid the clutter of memories waiting to be discovered. The soft melody of this forgotten song played as a backdrop to our laughter, filling the air with an indescribable warmth that blossomed between us a spark igniting a flame.

With each shared experience, my feelings for Jun blossomed like spring flowers after a long winter. He wove happiness into the very fabric of my existence, transforming routine days into profound adventures. Whether we were wandering through art galleries, losing track of time as we explored every brush stroke, or cozying up on the couch, binge-watching our favorite shows, every second felt steeped in joy.

On a particularly magical evening, under a canopy of twinkling stars, he surprised me with a little outing to a carnival. The air was thick with the aroma of popcorn and cotton candy, laughter swirling around us in a joyous symphony. As we ventured from one exhilarating ride to another, I felt alive in a way I never had before. He held my hand tightly, guiding me through the chaos, effortlessly balancing the thrill of each moment with the tenderness of his touch.

At the Ferris wheel, our hearts beat in unison as we floated high above the ground. The world below us transformed into a sparkly fairy tale, the colors merging into a breathtaking masterpiece. But it was Jun, with his wide grin and bright eyes, that truly took my breath away. We paused at the peak, and in that suspended moment, surrounded by the vastness of the sky, he turned to me his gaze piercing through the night, igniting a warmth that wrapped itself around my heart.

"I think I’m falling for you," he confessed, his voice barely rising above the soft hum of the carnival below.

In that instant, the world stilled. I felt a rush of overwhelming love surge within me, manifesting as a brilliant glow. I met his gaze, my heart laid bare as I whispered, "I think I’m already there."

Our lips met under the stars gentle, tentative, yet filled with an urgent need that blossomed into something deeper, something pure. It was a kiss that echoed promises of tomorrow, dreams painted in the colors of sunset and joy.

From that night on, we journeyed together, hand-in-hand, navigating the beautiful chaos of life. Together, we built a home of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and love that felt like the chorus of a well-loved song. With every glance, every touch, Jun and I grew intertwined in a tapestry of moments small yet infinitely rich, soft yet robust.

As I sit here remembering those memories, my heart swells. It’s a journey I wouldn’t trade for the world our serendipitous symphony, played endlessly, blending the notes of affection, laughter, and shared dreams into a masterpiece unique to us. And even now, with every heartbeat, I find myself falling deeper, content in the knowledge that this love, this treasure, is ours to keep forever.

[sidewalkchemistry]

Transforming Energy-Depleting "Self-Care" Habits 😫 ➡️ ☺️ | Holistic Leveling Up!

there are a lot of bad habits we've picked up as ways to "treat ourselves," but in the long run, they are more injurious than beneficial. the few moments of gratification they provide are deceptive. they can often be the hidden energy vampires in our lives. i've shared not just a small selection of these habits may be, but ways to overturn them to be nourishing and revitalizing instead 🥰

💔coffee & energy drinks: they run the adrenal glands ragged over time, which prevents us from existing moment-to-moment in the restorative parasympathetic nerve states. sure, many tout that coffee has benefits because of its antioxidants. you're better off getting your antioxidants from a more nourishing source like berries. a need for coffee or energy drinks in your life is often a sign that you're not being adequately refreshed by your sleep or eating enough fruit (want for sweet, nutrient-dense foods). rather than continuing to neglect your needs, start your day with fresh cold-pressed juice, a smoothie, herbal tea, and/or fruit.

💔alcohol: everyone knows it's better for you to do without drinking, but culturally, it often points in the opposite direction. transform your viewpoint over drinking when you consider that it's a tradition based in poisoning ourselves. if it weren't so long practiced in our histories, we would be quite alarmed by the hangover effects of alcohol. also, in drunken states, we are often influenced to do more things which deplete us - whether that's who we choose to hang around, how we speak to others, what we eat, etc. show greater respect for your body and set higher standards for your precious liver who has so much work already to do in today's world by forgoing alcohol. it's much more fun to experiment with creating mocktails because you can drink at much as you want, and the effects are often health-promoting. and if you want to have a close experience to the real thing, there are non alcoholic alternatives sold in many places now.

💔ordering in/out: this is one of the most insidious habits because the restaurant business thrives based on menus made hyperpalatable with unnecessary amounts of oil, salt, refined sugars, and artificial ingredients (even at many of the healthier restaurants). such dishes often make us sluggish, cause mood fluctuations, stimulate cravings for more oversaturated flavors, diminish levels of inspiration, pose problems to digestion, provoke skin problems, cause a tendency to overeat, etc. and worst of all, it makes you lazier about making beautiful efforts for caring and nourishing yourself. it's a night-and-day difference from enjoying your own homemade meal, especially if it is a whole food plant based meal (with little to no oil, salt, and refined sugar). plus, you're able to infuse your own love in your food, exercise your creativity in the kitchen, and seduce yourself with your creations :)

💔hitting the snooze button/procrastinating tasks: this causes us to need to rush. one of the lesser known ways of hurting yourself is existing in the mindset that you are running out of time. try to frame your life in such a way that you're able to take your time. and when you're in time-sensitive situations, still continue to treat and speak to yourself kindly & exist in the now. often, when you act mindfully, you may surprisingly find that you accomplish your tasks more speedily. all the flustering and frustrations we catch our mind up in slow us down. catastrophizing about what might happen doesn't help us to defy physics. so, always be intentional with your usage of time. it's one simple kind act to show yourself, to not put yourself under pressure, no matter the circumstances, because it doesn't help to be harsh with yourself. in fact, it will help to develop a solid & loving relationship with yourself.

💔staying up just a bit later: a poor nighttime routine leads to poor sleep, so it starts your next day on the wrong food. adequately wind down and exist in a frequency of peaceful calm in the last hours of your day. use ambient warm lighting (candle lighting is preferable) instead of artificial blue lighting after sunset. tidy your space and your body, to reduce the stress of clutter. set aside the day's emotional/energetic baggage with reflective contemplation, meditation, body scanning, reiki, and/or forgiveness exercises. and don't fight your sleepiness. it's far better to fall asleep with intention, rather than from exhaustion or by accident while watching a screen. structure your nights to feel luxurious and supportive by remembering the value of a proper wind-down routine.

so, there it is. stop having the bliss stolen from your life by expanding your levels of care & compassion for yourself. always seek to increase your abilities to nurture yourself. contentment & joy await you on the other side. may all beings be blissful💚

[thedarkcknight]

Day 8 Christmas with the Golbach's (Sam Golbach) FEM!Reader

Y/N'S POV

I pulled my coat tighter around me as Sam parked the car in front of his parents’ house. A warm glow radiated from the windows, promising a cozy refuge from the biting cold outside. My nerves prickled with anticipation. This was my first Christmas with the Golbach family, and while Sam had assured me they’d love me, I couldn’t help but worry about making a good impression.

Sam turned to me, his blue eyes sparkling under the faint light of the porch. “You ready for the chaos?” he teased.

“Define chaos,” I joked, though my stomach flipped as he reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll see.” His grin was mischievous, but it held a softness that made me feel safe.

The door burst open before we even made it up the steps. A whirlwind of Brown hair and energy came barreling out.

“Sam!”

“Allison, it’s freezing out here!” Sam groaned, but his sister had already wrapped him in a bear hug. Then she turned to me, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“You must be the Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, dragging me into a hug before I could respond. “I’m Allison, by the way. Ignore Sam if he hasn’t told you, he’s terrible at introductions.”

“Hi, Allison,” I managed, laughing nervously.

“Come on in before we all turn into popsicles!” Sam’s mom, Cindy, appeared in the doorway, her voice warm and inviting. She had Sam’s same blue eyes and an easy smile that immediately put me at ease.

Inside, the house smelled like pine and cinnamon. A massive Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments a mix of elegant baubles and homemade creations clearly crafted by tiny, clumsy hands years ago. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the coffee table was piled high with cookies and fudge.

“Mom, Dad, this is—”

“You don’t need to introduce her, son,” Kurt said as he came in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “She’s family already. Welcome!”

Family. The word made my chest tighten, but in the best way.

Sam guided me to the couch, where a boy who couldn’t have been more than sixteen was glued to a video game. He barely looked up.

“Ben,” Sam said, kicking the couch lightly, “say hi to my girlfriend Y/N.”

Ben finally glanced up, gave me a nonchalant “Hey,” and went back to his game.

“Don’t mind him,” Cindy said, setting a mug of hot cocoa in front of me. “Teenagers, you know?”

As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing. Cindy and Kurt asked questions about my family, my job, and how on earth I managed to put up with Sam. Allison filled in the gaps with embarrassing stories from Sam’s childhood—like the time he’d tried to build a snow fort and ended up accidentally burying himself in a snowdrift.

“Hey! She doesn’t need to hear that,” Sam protested, but I could see the affection in his eyes.

By the time dinner rolled around, I felt like I’d known the Golbachs for years. We crowded around the table, passing plates of turkey, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Ben finally started talking, mostly to argue with Allison about whose mashed potatoes were better—Mom’s or Grandma��s.

As the meal wound down, Cindy stood with a glass of wine in hand. “I just want to say,” she began, looking at me, “that it’s been wonderful having you here. You’ve made Sam so happy, and seeing him happy is all we could ever want. You’re welcome here anytime.”

The sincerity in her voice brought a lump to my throat. Sam reached under the table and gave my hand a squeeze.

Later, as we curled up on the couch watching a Christmas movie, Sam leaned in close and whispered, “Told you they’d love you.”

“I love them too,” I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder.

And I meant it.

[thesinglethreat]

trying to make it in new york wasn't easy, but it was still a dream worth chasing. after being accepted to nyu for dance, jean had convinced her boyfriend to give the city another try with a bat of her eyelashes and a but i'll be there pout. now, they lived in a shoebox apartment in brooklyn and commuted their way around the city to classes and auditions.

this week had been particularly hard. one of jean's biggest dreams was to a rockette, and she had been surprised to nab an audition despite knowing she didn't make the height requirement. she was honest on her resume. okay, kind of. she put she was 5'2", but that was still three inches under the minimum! she was given the chance to perform the sixteen count routine that they had been sent in advance, and she had poured her soul into it. maybe she was good enough to be an exception. maybe she could make history. but after her finishing pose, her eyes had flickered to faces that were annoyed and disinterested. your dancing is . . . fine, but you don't meet the requirements. next!

with that she had been dismissed, and she had taken a pit stop in the studio's bathroom on her way out to let out some of those frustrations. height wasn't something she could just fix! she had the talent, all of the makings, but her stupid body was turning against her again. she had stopped growing in seventh grade, big whoop! she could out dance any of those girls in that room!

she had spent that night venting to theo, but she had tried not to let it ruin her week. there was still the new york city ballet, another big dream of hers. broadway. there were still possibilities.

by the time friday rolled around, jean had gotten home a couple of hours before theo, so she started to create a spread. their coffee table was bedecked with two bowls of homemade tomato soup and a platter of grilled cheeses cut into little triangles and some cheaper options of lunch meat, cheese, fruit, jam, and crackers to make a budget-friendly charcuterie board.

she had just finished arranging everything when she heard the front door open, straightening up to find @santafeilure walk through the door. " hi, " she breathed out with a grin as she stood before her creation. " i think . . . we need to find reasons to celebrate so we don't burn out here, and i just -- this is my mom's tomato soup recipe, and it always makes me feel better. and i know it's been a hard week for both of us -- "

she was rambling. she closed her eyes and exhaled another breath to try again, a smile spreading across her lips. " hi. how was your day? "

[product-blog]

Essential Kitchen Appliances for 2024

The kitchen serves as the heartbeat of any home, and the right appliances can transform cooking and meal preparation into a seamless experience. In this blog post, we’ll delve into the top 10 indispensable kitchen appliances for 2024, uniting functionality, innovation, and style.

Intelligent Refrigerators:

Revolutionizing the kitchen landscape, smart refrigerators boast touchscreens, Wi-Fi connectivity, and cameras for remote fridge content viewing. With features like food inventory tracking and recipe suggestions, these appliances redefine grocery management.

2. Induction Cooktops:

Efficient and precise, induction cooktops use electromagnetic technology for rapid heating and accurate temperature control. With safety features like automatic shut-off and cool-to-touch surfaces, they add a sleek and energy-efficient touch to any kitchen.

3. Air Fryers:

Embracing health-conscious cooking, air fryers use minimal oil and hot air circulation to produce crispy, delicious meals without excess grease. Versatile in functionality, they can fry, bake, grill, and roast a wide array of dishes.

4. Sous Vide Machines:

Bringing professional cooking techniques to homes, sous vide machines ensure even cooking and optimal flavor retention through precise temperature control in a water bath. Perfect for preparing anything from steak and chicken to vegetables and desserts.

5. Smart Coffee Makers:

A game-changer for coffee enthusiasts, smart coffee makers offer remote control via smartphone or voice commands, ensuring a perfect cup every time with customizable brewing settings and scheduled brewing.

6. Multi-Cookers:

Streamline your cooking routine with multi-cookers, combining the functions of a pressure cooker, slow cooker, rice cooker, steamer, and more in one convenient device. Programmable settings and automated cooking programs simplify preparation.

7. Smart Dishwashers:

Automated dishwashing is here with smart dishwashers that sense load size, choose wash cycles, and notify you when dishes are clean. Energy-efficient and environmentally friendly, these appliances save time in the kitchen.

8. High-Speed Blenders:

Upgrade your blending experience with powerful high-speed blenders that can pulverize fruits, vegetables, and ice in seconds. Variable speed control and pre-programmed settings add convenience and versatility to your culinary creations.

9. Wi-Fi Enabled Ovens:

Control your oven remotely with Wi-Fi-enabled ovens, featuring intuitive touchscreens, recipe integration, and real-time cooking progress monitoring. Baking and roasting become seamless experiences with these smart appliances.

10. Ninja Creami:

Experience the joy of making homemade ice cream in seconds with the Ninja Creami. Offering versatility, healthier ingredient options, and family-friendly fun, it’s a valuable addition for those who love creating their own frozen treats.

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

December 20th, making pies

Today you and Matthew are making homemade pies. Matthew is currently rolling out the pie dough that the two of you have made from scratch. You're going to be making pumpkin pie and apple pie today.

Matthew rolls out the pie crust perfectly and puts it into a pie pan while you are opening the can of pumpkin and putting In a bowl before adding all of the spices.

Matthew brings the pie pan over to you. After you're done mixing all of the pumpkin and spices, all the other ingredients together, you pour it into the perfectly done pie crust.

Next, it's on to peeling the apples. Matthew is currently rolling out the pie dough for the apple pie now.

Once Matthew has put the pie crust in the pan, he's right next to you, helping you peel apples after you spice the mall up and add a touch of butter to the top of them. After putting them into the pie crust, Matthew puts the top pie crust on the pie.

They go into the oven and the two of you are ready for your coffee. Matthew is eating a candy cane while you prepare the morning coffee.

While the pies are cooking, the two of you sip your coffee, Matthew finishes his candy cane, and the two of you talk about what you're going to do for the rest of the day.

The smell of fresh baked pies is filling the air of your home. It smells wonderful. The two of you can't wait to try your perfect pies.

When they're done and cooled off, the two of you are ready to enjoy your creations. 

You're walking to the living room when you hear this swooshing sound. You turn around to see what it is, and you see Matthew with a can of whip cream, making a tower of it on top of his piece of pumpkin pie.

You can't help but giggle as you turn around and watch your husband put almost an entire can of whip cream on his piece of pie. He looks up at you with a smile and asks "what? I told you I love with cream."

You walk over to him and give him a sweet kiss before telling him I know and I still love my whipped cream. Love and husband.

They are truly the best pies that either one of you have ever had. This is definitely going to be a tradition for you now.

[rabiabushra]

Discover the Secrets to Making Flavored Coffee at Home

Introduction:

Are you a coffee lover looking to spice up your daily brew? Making flavored coffee at home is easier than you might think. Not only does it save you money, but it also allows you to customize your drink to your exact preferences.

Here’s a simple guide to help you master the art of making flavored coffee at home.

Why Make Flavored Coffee at Home?

Making your own flavored coffee gives you the freedom to experiment with different tastes and aromas. Whether you’re in the mood for a hint of vanilla, a touch of caramel, or a splash of hazelnut, the possibilities are endless.

Plus, you can control the ingredients, ensuring a healthier, more natural brew without any artificial additives.

Step-by-Step Guide to Making Flavored Coffee

1. Choose Your Coffee Beans: Start with high-quality coffee beans. The type of coffee you use can significantly impact the flavor. Opt for a medium or dark roast for a richer taste that pairs well with added flavors.

2. Pick Your Flavorings: There are numerous ways to flavor your coffee. Here are some popular options:

Syrups: Vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, and chocolate are classic choices.

Spices: Cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom add a warm, spicy kick.

Extracts: A few drops of vanilla or almond extract can transform your coffee.

Natural Ingredients: Add a twist of orange peel, a few drops of coconut milk, or a splash of maple syrup.

3. Brew Your Coffee: Brew your coffee as usual. You can use a drip coffee maker, French press, or any method you prefer.

4. Add Your Flavorings:

Syrups and Extracts: Stir in your chosen syrup or extract while the coffee is still hot to ensure it blends well.

Spices: Add ground spices directly to your coffee grounds before brewing, or sprinkle them into your cup and stir well.

Natural Ingredients: For ingredients like orange peel or cinnamon sticks, steep them in hot coffee for a few minutes to infuse the flavor.

5. Sweeten to Taste: If you prefer your coffee sweet, add sugar, honey, or any sweetener of your choice.

6. Enjoy Your Homemade Flavored Coffee: Pour your flavored coffee into your favorite mug, sit back, and enjoy the delicious taste of your homemade creation.

Tips for Perfect Flavored Coffee

Experiment: Don’t be afraid to try new flavors and combinations. You might discover a new favorite!

Adjust to Your Taste: Start with small amounts of flavoring and adjust according to your preference.

Store Properly: Keep your coffee beans in an airtight container to preserve their freshness.

Why You'll Love Making Flavored Coffee at Home

Not only is making flavored coffee at home a fun and creative process, but it also offers a personalized touch to your daily routine. By experimenting with different flavors, you can discover unique blends that are tailored to your taste buds.

Plus, it’s a great way to impress guests with your barista skills!

For more detailed guides and tips on making the perfect cup of coffee, visit our comprehensive article on How To Make Flavored Coffee At Home.

Whether you're a coffee aficionado or a casual drinker, there’s something for everyone.

Author Bio: Passionate about all things coffee, we at Session Coffee Denver love sharing tips and tricks to help you brew the perfect cup. Visit our website for more coffee inspiration and recipes!

[atlaswilliams]

Location — Farmer’s Market

Character — @abelthcmpson

Two hours stood between him and pick up for his daughter that looked so much like her mother that he often forgot he’d played a hand in her creation. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were a mirrored image of Sage, but the wicked grin and knack for trouble? That was where he’d contributed genetically speaking. With his hands tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans, he bounced from vendor to vendor, happily accepting samples whenever offered, except for the boozy hot chocolate that came in tiny paper cups.

Normally, he would have found solace in a bar. If not to drink, then to shoot a few games of pool or challenge soemone on a darts board, but little about his current routine was normal. The one time he’d lingered in a bar for a friend, he’d walked out at the end of the night with a need for the bottles he hadn’t touched. Thankfully, one trip by the late night coffee shop had been all it had taken to curb the desire.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I squeeze in?” Another round of samples, this time, it was a homemade garlic and parmesan spread on a freshly baked loaf of bread. “Have you tried it yet? It looks good, smells good too,” he added, lifting the sample up with a turning stomach. Even after a handful of samples, he still wanted more. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. Are you from around here?” He brushed one of his palms against the front of his jeans and offered it to the man he’d practically nudged into a conversation.