#Snickerdoodle Cookie Square

[literaila]

cookie dough 

summary: is this one about self doubt or about cookie dough? who’s to say?

warnings: fluff, bad jokes (it’s midnight shhh), self-doubt, sweet peter, mean peter, mean reader, cookies, ovens

*

if an escape is what you're looking for, then peter seems to be the perfect place. 

"which one?" he's asking you now. "there's chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle, macadamia nut..." 

you are definitely not just staring at his lips. 

you are completely focused, swear to it. 

you look down to the cookie dough he's frowning over. "i kinda just want to eat it." 

peter looks up. "you said that you wanted to make cookies." 

"i said that i wanted cookies. you said that you weren't going to make them alone," you nudge him with your shoulder. your lip twitches at the dubious look on his face. 

"now you're saying that you just want to eat the cookie dough?" he raises a brow. 

"look at how good it looks..." 

peter blinks. "you can't even see it," he says. "it's just the pillsbury dough boy." 

"i always did have a bit of a crush on him," you grin, taking the package from his hand. 

"i'm going to pretend that you didn't say that," besides you, peter cradles a hand to his chest, mock offended. 

he was already up when you called. 

peter was already waiting for you to interrupt his middle-of-the-night activities and drag him along on some endeavor to keep yourself entertained. 

you are lucky, you know. lucky that he was there when you needed him. 

not that you admit to needing him, of course. this is a mere coincidence. 

though, your jaw has gotten a bit sore from laughing. 

"this one says 'eat or bake,'" peter says. "we can get two. i'll make the cookies, and you can eat the dough." 

you frown at him, pushing away the 'safe to eat' dough. "that just ruins the fun." 

"the fun being salmonella?" 

"breaking the rules, peter," you frown at him, high and mighty with your cookie dough in your hands. by the time you get to eat it, it will be mush. "acting like a kid again and stealing a spoonful of dough from the bowl even though mom said not to--" 

"it's cookie dough." 

"i'll take five, please." 

peter laughs. "you can't afford five of these." 

"i can if i have the help of a very generous boyfriend." 

peter nods. he grabs a package--probably a terrible flavor, probably just to irritate you--and starts walking away. "let me know when you find one." 

you run along after him, trying to steal a peek at what he picked out. "i hope you know that this earns you no points," you say. 

but it does. 

peter is here with you, keeping away the loneliness that likes to creep in on nights like this. 

days when it gets dark far too soon and every hour feels like five different ones. 

days when without him, you think, you might cease to exist. 

peter gets points for just being there. for smiling at you like he is now. for kissing the top of your head and wrapping a hand around your waist as the two of you walk towards the checkout. 

*

"this is terrible," you say, taking another swipe of his sugar cookie dough. 

because, yes, peter is trying to get on your nerves. it is in no way deserved. 

he snorts. "then why are you eating it?" and then, because he's both taller and crueler than you, he moves the baking sheet out of your reach. 

"i need to properly judge you," you lean over his shoulder, examining his hands with curious eyes. "i just wanna help." 

"you want to steal the rest of the cookie dough." 

"why did yours come in circles?" you ask. "that's so much better than squares." 

"we'll draft an email while these are baking." 

you scowl at his back--glare at him when he looks to you with a cheeky smile--and move to sit on the counter. you still haven't opened your dough yet. 

"sugar cookies..." you whisper under your breath. 

"anything more than that," peter says, "and you'd get sick." 

you throw a dish towel at him. he catches it without a blink of an eye, continuing to place the circular patties of dough on the sheet. "you just picked those out so that i wouldn't eat all of them." 

"i'm saving you from crashing off a sugar high. you're welcome." 

"thanks, mom." 

peter chuckles. he thinks that you can't hear it, but you can.

"when are you going to be done?" you ask. "this is boring." 

"maybe if you weren't a thief i would let you help." 

"i am your executitive chef. i have to make sure that everything's up to standard." 

peter hums. he places the sheet in the oven, stepping back and spinning around. 

there are lines under his eyes because it's three in the morning. 

but he's smiling at you, and he still hasn't asked you to get out. 

it's a good enough sign. 

"now i'm done." 

"good." 

peter's smile widens, he takes a step toward you. "why?" he asks. "got big plans?" 

you smile back, leaning into him. "wanna cuddle." 

if peter laughs, you can't hear it. 

but he is quick to obey your command. he removes any distance between the two of you in an instant, hands wrapping around your back, nose falling into your hair. 

you can feel him breathing against you. 

every inhale is like a reminder; a sweet little love letter, letting you know that he's all yours. 

you breathe with him, swearing that it will get you even closer than you already are. 

"good?" peter whispers to you. 

he might be smiling. he sounds like he is, but you aren't sure. 

you nod against his chest, relaxing into the sound of him swallowing. the careful release of his shoulders, the smooth curve of his neck when you trail a hand up to his hair. 

he shivers. 

and you breathe in one last time. 

"sorry," you whisper against him. you're almost hoping that he can't hear. 

but peter doesn't miss much. 

"for what?" he asks, head falling so that it's closer to yours. lips right against your cheek. 

he kisses the skin of your jaw like it will convince you to tell him all of your secrets. 

which, in all honesty, it might. 

"just..." you sigh against him, unsure if you're conflicted or if peter's just distracting. "i know you were probably busy." 

peter pauses. he moves back, looking you in the eye. 

"i mean, i didn't want to interrupt any plans you might've had tonight," you continue. "and i know i'm being more clingy than usual. it's just been a long week and i missed you, and... i don't know. i’m just sorry.”

there is a moment of silence. 

a moment when you can hear the buzzing of the oven right next to you, the warmth coming from the floor beneath your feet. 

you can feel peter because he's right next to you, and you still feel so far away. 

a distance farther than the eye can see. 

"baby," peter whispers, hands drawing circles behind your ear. 

"yeah?" 

you aren't looking at him, just at the floor.

"you didn't interrupt anything. and you aren't being clingy." 

you raise a brow. "peter--" 

"--and if you are being clingy, then i don't mind. i like hugging you and holding your hand, and almost tripping over your legs when you try to walk as fast as i do--" 

"hey," you protest.

peter laughs. "all of it. i love all of it." 

he's absolutely sure. he's brushing the self-doubt off of your shoulders and telling you that this shirt, this confidence doesn't fit right. 

but you've grown used to swimming in the fabric. 

"i just don't want to push myself at you all of the time. we're independent people, we can do independent things." 

"you know what i do when you're not here?" peter asks you, mock-serious. he's smiling because he's an idiot and because you are. but he's still three inches away from you. breath on the skin of your forehead. 

"homework?" 

peter looks up, thinking about it. "okay, yes. sometimes. but mostly i just sit around, trying to come up with excuses to call you." 

you frown. "you don't need an excuse to call me," you tell him. 

"neither do you," peter reiterates. "i don't think that spending time with you is an interruption," he laughs a little bit. "actually, if you wanted to interrupt me more when i'm doing homework..." 

you breathe again, trying to stifle the doubt.

"you don't have to apologize just because you asked me if i wanted to go to the store with you."

you nod against him, because, sure, you agree. 

but you won't meet his eyes. but peter could be lying, and he could be secretly annoyed with you right now. 

and there are cookies in the oven that are going to burn and you aren't sure if peter set a timer or not. 

"hey," he interrupts, making you look at him with a gentle push of your chin. "i'm not lying." 

you scowl. 

he laughs. "i can read your mind, you know." 

"no, you can't." 

"then how do i know that you're thinking about how much you want me to kiss you?" peter leans down, his breath a gentle lurking. like a pitter-patter of your heart. 

you smile almost against him. 

and then you close the distance, molding yourself to him in an instant. 

and he clarifies a million things. he tells you over and over again that you are worthy of something, if only him. he rewrites sonnets on your skin, leaving behind marks that won’t fade with time.

peter bruises your lips and swears that it’s all out of love. he’s gentle as he ruins your skin, soft and teasing as he dents the once soft curve of your neck.

he whispers words into your mouth and they echo back. he tells you that you won’t be able to escape that easily.

then he pulls back, smiling.  

"was i right?" 

you hum. "not sure. you might wanna try again." 

peter almost gets a laugh out before the oven beeps and interrupts both of you. 

you groan. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:   @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @valvlry​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 8

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

The world is duller without Snickerdoodle around. In the week you've known her, she's affected your outlook. You're still a cynic but you don't mind having her around. In fact, you enjoy it. Besides, she needs someone to keep her out of trouble.

So it is that you're restless. She's busy at the thrift shop with her mother. She offered to bring you along but it feels like an intrusion. She has other friends, even if they sound shitty.

After a while of indecision, you head down to the coffee shop. As you come up on the aged awning, you pause. The burnt coffee and stale croissants aren't as appealing as usual. Your feet carry you past it.

You hop on a bus and step off a street away from your destination. You don't know what you're hoping for, a bit of comfort in sugar form. You enter the cookie shop and suck in the scent of chocolate and cinnamon.

Maybe later you can meet up with your new friend. You join the queue and look up at the menu. You could grab an extra lemon square. Ugh, since when are you sentimental?

You stand behind a man. Short and spindly, his blonde head bobbing up as he tries to see the display of cookies around the customer in front of him. You glance around at the free seats, there's not many left.

The line shifts forward and you go with it. The man steps up and places his order. His deep voice surprises you but you don't hear his words as you peruse the specialty lattes.

It comes your turn as the skinny blond stranger moves to join the other customers by the order window. You get the rosehips tea latte and a few lemon squares. You pay and wait for your change.

"Steve," a barista calls out.

You peek over as the blond man grabs his cup, only for the man near the other side of the window to snicker.

"Ha, think that extra cream will hulk ya up," the other man snarls and laughs with his buddy.

You frown. The guy's minding his business, you don't see why those jock douchebags need to chirp him. Or maybe you're just annoyed because you know the type.

"Jack Skellington here and his double foam mocha–"

"Whatever," the blond mutters.

"Hey, why don't you shut it," you sidle over and cross your arms.

"What do you care?" One of the bulky men rolls his eyes.

"I don't which is why I don't wanna hear it."

"Mind your business," the other retorts.

"You," you snap back.

"You shouldn't talk to women that way," the blond inserts himself in the middle, gripping his cup, "so why don't you quiet down?"

"She put her nose where it doesn't belong. Guess you'd know all about that, bird beak."

"Loser," the second man taps the bottom of the blonds cup, splashing the cream and coffee up his front.

You step forward as the barista barks out, "hey, take your drinks." He slams down two cups, "and don't come back."

"The pip squeak–"

"I can hear, bro," the barista interjects, "so go."

The dude bros sulkily take their cups and shoulder past the smaller man. The barista puts a roll of brown paper towel on the counter and you grab it before the blond can. You guess Snickerdoodle rubbed off on you, just a little. You tear away a good length and hand it over.

He puts down his mostly empty cup and accepts it with a scratchy thank. He tries to mop clean his button-up, the brown plaid baggy across his thin torso. The barista takes his cup and dumps it, promising a fresh one as another employee sets your latte in the window.

"You didn't have to say anything," the man says as he wipes his neck, "you know, I can stand up for myself."

"Yeah, I'm sure you can. I just…" your lemon squares are put up on the counter, "guess you're right. Sorry."

He winces and lets his shoulders fall, "look, sorry. Thanks. It was… nice. Brave. I just… it's embarrassing."

"Pfft, those idiots should be embarrassed," your sniff, "got nothing better to do, do they?"

The barista comes back, once more calling out, "Steve." The blond, responding to his name, thanks him and accepts the fresh coffee. He looks at you and gives a sheepish half-smirk, "guess I could skip the whip cream."

"No fun in that," you say, "anyway–"

"Hey, do you mind actually, I wanna snag a few seats for me and my buddy. He's running late so maybe… you could be a seat warmer?"

"Oh, you mean placeholder? Damn, thought I was past that shit."

"No, no, I didn't mean–"

"I'm kidding. Sure, I'll sit with you. Just until your guy gets here, then I gotta catch a bus."

"Uh, alright," he says, as if amazed, "that's… a yes?"

"Sure," you laugh, "I walked halfway here so whatever."

You wait, and gesture him ahead of you. He hesitates but leads you across the shop, weaving between patrons to the corner. He claims the two seats by the bookcase and you sink down into the cushy seat.

"So, uh, you from around here?" He asks, nervously balancing his cup. It's almost endearing.

"Not really. Just ended up here…" you look down at the box in your lap, "you like lemon squares?"

"Uh, yeah, they're not bad."

You flip the lid up and offer him the pick of the lot. Another thanks as he takes one and smiles. You notice how he struggles to even look at you for more than a second.

"You, uh, I like your necklace…" he ekes out.

You have to keep from laughing. Alright, that's cute. You close the box but before you respond, a grizzly voice cuts through you. Steve's name precedes the man but you don't need to look up to know him.

"Ha, what are the odds?" The man from the club sneers.

"Bucky," Steve greets and smooths his hair with his palm. "You know… her? Oh," he reddens, "she's–"

"As if," you stand and fling your cup at the man, Bucky’s, chest. You feel as if you could explode. You want to peel his skin from his bones. "Don't fucking come near me," you keep your arm out, "fucking– creep!"

You're shaking as you cradle the box of lemon squares and stomp away, battling between fight and flight. Leave and no one gets hurt. Leave and you can catch your breath.

[heraldeez]

Because it’s funny and very off-season, would you be comfortable writing about Jayce doing some Christmas decorating?

(I laughed a lot writing this one, thanks for the prompt, anon.)

Jayce x Reader | 670 | SFW

Contains: mistletoe! and the hubris of man

You’re chewing on an excellent snickerdoodle cookie and waiting for the ‘snap.’

The tiny pine tree you’d brought home to stuff into the corner of your shoebox grad-student apartment couldn’t be more than three feet tall, set on a table to add a bit of winter cheer to the sea of textbooks and beat up mechanical projects that usually comprised your place. And despite its diminutive size, Jayce has spent the last five minutes strapping on a distinctly oversized tree topper to the poor thing.

It’ll totally work, or so he had said. Handmade. Just for you.

Not like you were going to tell him no, even before he had held the ornament aloft so giddily, absolutely gleaming with earnestness and excitement…

Jayce stands at the center of your living room, surrounded by cheery garlands and two tacked up stockings, staring down your tree with a contemplative hand on his chin, as though there were simply a better angle he could come at it from. The branch woefully strapped with the dense, albeit beautiful, piece of metalwork droops down towards him as if prostrate and begging for mercy.

“I just thought–” Jayce closes his mouth again for a moment, regarding the poor tree with a grimace. “I thought the wood might be a bit stronger?”

You blink at the topper – solid metal! The size of your cranium! In no universe was that thing meant for a tree smaller than the towering one in the festival market square! – and swallow back cinnamon sugar.

“Well, the ornament is just, uh, extremely well made,” you offer, gently.

Snap.

Shouldn’t have opened your mouth. The tree takes the opportunity to splinter, topper lurching abruptly into the floor at his feet with a dull thunk.

Jayce sucks in air through his teeth. “I owe you a new tree. And maybe a new floor.”

That startles a bark of laughter from you, standing up from the kitchen stool to go place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surveying the carnage. “Definitely not. We’ll just get more creative with displaying it.” Your eyes dart around your cramped living room for prospective spots. “I think it would look excellent on top of the bookshelf. Flanked with some candles.”

Jayce nods slowly, but his pout is still focused on the splintered bough. His brows still furrowed with the need to fix, to problem solve. 

“Before that,” you ply, drawing your hand from his shoulder to rummage in a festive bag beneath the coffee table, “would you like to help me tack these up instead?”

Jayce's eyes flick to the bundle of mistletoe sprigs dangling from your fingers. The frown startles off his face as his lips part slightly, wanting. 

“Oh! Well, yeah–” The corners of his lips quirk up, somewhat bashful, somewhat delighted. “Yeah, I can definitely help with that.”

The tree is all but forgotten in the subsequent flurry of kisses. One right there in the living room. One out on your tiny balcony, breathing in the scent of candied fruits and nuts wafting across your neighborhood from the festival market up the street. Another in the doorway of your kitchen. Approximately twelve exchanged in the middle of your bedroom, Jayce's fingers curling in the soft yarn of your sweater to haul you up against him, eager and sweet against your lips.

He lurches back sharply enough to make you jump, snapping his fingers. “I've got it – I'll build you a new tree. You don't mind the brass aesthetic, do you? It'll be very art deco.”

The abruptness of it startles laughter out of you, too caught in your mirth to remind him that Christmas is in four days, and he hardly has the time to spare building you some sort of steampunk tree.

And yet the tree appears, nestled in the crook of Jayce's elbow when he knocks on your door Christmas Eve, tiny and sturdy and gleaming in the light.

You marvel at it for a moment, and then pull him down for a much-deserved kiss.

[bicycle4two]

fine as we are, but we want more || Jason Todd x Female!Reader || Chapter 5 of 8

Summary:

all things considered, you're pretty lucky.

in all your years living in gotham city, you've never been mugged, never had your apartment broken into, never been held as a hostage.

until now.

it seems your luck has run out and there's nothing you can do about it other than wait for someone to come rescue you. . .

or, jason and you reunite after a long time.

...

Read on AO3

...

Chapter 4

...

Chapter 5:

You didn’t expect Jason’s hobbies to be so wholesome. You hate to admit it, but you sort of always pictured him working on his motorcycle or doing some sort of extreme sport in his spare time. And maybe he does, but he also bakes snickerdoodle cookies for Barbara and knits scarves for shelters. You quickly find that being friends with Jason Todd means you can’t just take him at face value, that there’s more to him than a strong set of muscles and a dangerous night job. He’s more than the Red Hood.

And although you love being friends with Red Hood, love hearing about his new gear, the types of guns he’s collected over the years, the new bullets he’s acquired that somehow have elemental effects (whatever that means), the little tidbits of whatever mission he feels he can talk to you about, you love being friends with Jason Todd a little more.

Because Jason Todd visits you at Becker’s Best in the morning, because Jason Todd sends you pictures of the new cat that’s found its way into the “office,” because Jason Todd can cook when it’s too late to order food because the two of you were so absorbed in what you were watching that you’ve forgotten to eat.

(You remember scrolling through your phone, looking for restaurants that were still open, when Jason suggested that he could make something if you wanted. And who were you to say no? So, after a quick scan of what you had in your pantry and refrigerator, Jason settled on making what he liked to call his famous instant noodles.

You never thought to add cheese and jalapenos to your noodles before but now it’s a flavor combination that you can’t live without.)

You honestly never expected Jason to let you into his life the way he has, to share his interests with you, to spend his free time teaching you how to knit (you’ve only ever made oddly shaped squares despite his meticulous guidance. He assures you everyone starts out that way. Even Tim’s having some trouble) and how to crack eggs with one hand (“You don’t really have to do it that way. Just use both your hands,” he’d said when you fished out the shells from your fifth attempt. There was a lot of scrambled eggs that afternoon.) He’s even emailed you a reading list filled with his favorite books, both standalone and series. You found yourself ordering a few of them online once you got your paycheck, excited to discuss them with him once you’ve read through them.

You don’t expect Jason to weave you into his life, to fit you in wherever he can, in between saving Gotham, in between research, in between servings tables, but here you are in one of the library’s function rooms with your hair tied away from your face and Jason’s extra Wonder Woman apron wrapped around your waist. Today’s hobby exploration is pottery.

“I have to say,” you start, easing yourself onto your stool, grinning at Jason as he does the same, dwarfing his seat. “I did not expect this.”

“It’s new,” he says with a shrug, already bringing out his materials, setting aside the tools in an orderly line on the table beside him and then unwrapping his clay. “Babs brought home a brochure from the library, and I figured why not?”

“You do know I’ll be humming Unchained Melody the entire time, right?” You follow his lead, only throwing your slab of clay onto the wheel as opposed to just simply putting it on. It lands off center, so you pick it up and do it properly. Which is, disappointing.

“You wouldn’t be the first one.”

“Probably won’t be the last either.”

The instructor comes in and tells the class that you’ll be making bowls today. She shows some examples, bowls of different heights, widths, and depths, even some wonky looking ones with “character.” You think that you probably won’t make anything that can properly hold food, so you settle to make something small, something that can maybe hold your paper clips and those cute erasers you keep buying but never use. After a few safety reminders, the instructor wishes everyone luck, advises patience, and says that she’s always available for questions and assistance.

Oh. And to have fun. Of course.

Your classmates begin the activity almost immediately, even Jason is already wetting his clay, wheel spinning as he envelopes the lump in his hands, putting pressure on each side to make the lump slimmer and taller. He wipes excess clay on the rim of his water bucket before getting back to work, pushing his clay downwards with the palm of his left hand.

“You gonna get started, angel?” He asks, attention still on his work, molding the clay like it’s nothing. “Or are you just gonna ogle at me? I get it. I’m irresistible.”

You blink, a little dazed, before letting out a huff, blowing a few strands of hair out of your face. “Ugh. You wish, Todd.”

Jason lets out a soft laugh, a sort of raspy sound, and you force yourself to not look at him, to look at your dry lump of clay. You wet both your hands and the clay before spinning the wheel, slowly at first, trying to get the feel of the peddle, before picking up the speed and repeating what Jason did to his project.

You press the clay together, watching it grow tall before it flies off the center of your wheel.

“Ah!” You yelp, drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. And the instructor. Who was coincidentally behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” the instructor says kindly, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Was I going too fast?”

The instructor looks at the lump. “You’ve probably made it a bit too tall. No worries. It’s fixable.”

So, you slap the clay back in the center, ignore Jason’s gaze, and repeat your steps. Molding the clay, trying to find peace and serenity in the activity. Because Jason said pottery is good for stress, but you feel like you’ve never been more stressed before.

(Okay. That’s a lie. You were a hostage to a bunch of Freaks just the other month, but that’s different.)

You spend about thirty minutes in silence, brows furrowed, bottom lip between your teeth in concentration, your clay is finally listening to you, stretching and shrinking with the guidance of your hands. You think that maybe you’ve gotten the hang of it, and you take a break, your ankle hurting from the peddle, looking over to see that Jason’s clay already looks like a bowl. It’s impressive really, how quickly he’s able to make one while yours is still shapeless. You watch him use one of his tools on the inside rim of his bowl, opening it further.

“That looks like a ramen bowl,” you tell him once his wheel stops spinning. He wipes excess clay off his hands once more before turning his attention to you. To your project.

“Angel,” he says, mouth quirking. “What is that?”

“Clay,” you say lamely. “It’s clay, Jason.”

“Do you need help?”

“Please.” Because although you can always ask the instructor, you’ve seen her flit from one student to the next, guiding different molds of clay, helping create different kinds of bowls, and you don’t want to keep her from someone whose project actually has potential. That, and you’re the only one in the room who still has a lump, and you’re sort of embarrassed.

“C’mon. It’s easy,” Jason says, already by your side. “Start the wheel up again.”

And you do, you press on the peddle, gaining momentum and mold the clay the same way you’ve been doing the past how many minutes.

“Good, that’s good,” Jason says and you bite your lip once more to keep yourself grounded because he’s so close to you now, practically cheek to cheek as he moves in to help. And. You don’t know what you’re feeling but whatever it is, it’s not appropriate for pottery class. “Now dip your thumb in the center. Yeah, just like that.”

And you follow his instructions, trying to pace yourself because you don’t want your clay to go flying again. So, you apply pressure with your left thumb, using your right hand to help guide your thumb outwards, pressing against the clay so that the hole you created gets bigger.

“Careful,” Jason says, voice soft. “You don’t want it to be too wide.”

“Got it,” you breathe out.

“Now let’s make it a bit taller. Wet the clay.”

You do as he says. He tells you to pinch the base and slowly move your hand up the wall of your bowl to make it taller. It’s starting to look like a wide Japanese teacup. And you think that maybe you can stop here, quit while you’re ahead.

But there’s a little devil over your shoulder telling you that if you stop now, then Jason’s going to go back to his seat. And do you really want that?

“What’s next?”

He hands you the same tool he was using to widen the rim of his bowl and you try your best to mimic what he did. But you get excited, you do a bit too much. And your bowl is starting to look a little like a plate.

“Jason,” you all but whine. “It, it does not want to bowl!”

“Easy there, angel. There’s still hope.” He looks at it for a second, studying it. You wonder what goes on through his mind, what he sees in your bowl-plate. Because it’s starting to look like you should maybe start from scratch, turn it into a lump again. Or start over with a new one. “Here—let’s just do this.”

And he guides your hand back to the clay, tells you to spin the wheel, and to your surprise he doesn’t let go. Instead, his hands lightly cover yours, using you to mold the clay to his liking.

“Oh my God,” you say. “Jason. We’re Ghost.”

“What?” He’s a bit distracted, guiding you to mold the bowl upwards, to make it less plate like.

“Ghost. We’re having a Ghost moment.” You don’t care about your project right now. Because this is a once in lifetime moment. So, you turn your head slightly, lips angled to his ear, and you softly sing, “Oh, my love, my darling…”

And Jason jerks so suddenly that your bowl goes flying. It soars through the sky before making an impressive splat on the ground. The class bursts out in laughter, but you can’t bring yourself to care, to be embarrassed, because you’re too busy looking at Jason, watching how red creeps up his neck and paints his cheeks and ears. And you’re pretty sure you look exactly the same. Because everything is catching up to you, your mind going haywire.

And you have to wonder if he’s feeling the same things as you. If his heart is beating against his chest so hard, so violently, like it wants to burst out. Because yours is trying to break through your ribs and fly over to Jason in hopes that he catches it.

…

It’s something that he’s used to doing. Patching someone up. With a job like his, it’s not easy to go to the hospital, to explain why you’re all banged up, with broken bones and burns on your skin. More so if you can’t manage to get out of uniform, too tired, too much in pain to peel off all the layers. It’s why all of them know first aid, it’s why Alfred can perform surgery. It’s just easier that way. Convenient.

Jason’s pretty good at dressing wounds and setting bones straight. He’s had to do it to himself a couple of times, too, and he likes to think he’s healed up pretty nicely, his scars could honestly look a whole lot worse.

He just never expected to have to do the same for her. Never in his life did he want to be in this situation, disinfecting her wounds and wrapping her hand. And that makes him nervous. Because he doesn’t want to screw up, doesn’t want to cause her any more pain than what she’s already in.

Because she’s pretty banged up. There’s a cut on her lip and one of the first things Jason tended to was the wound on her cheek. They had to squeeze into his small bathroom as he helped her wash, disinfect, and bandage the soft skin. He didn’t have any make up remover, so she still has mascara darkening the skin under her eyes. Her hair’s a mess, frizzed and knotted from being pulled, from being wrapped around someone’s fist, and her clothes are dirty, the knees of her jeans ripped.

When Jason first saw her, he wanted to go back to the people who did this, do something so much worse than what they did to her, but the logical part of him hit before he left, reminding him that although she isn’t broken, she’s battered and bruised and needs help being put back together.

So, he places the bandage at the inside of her wrist, just below her thumb, and begins wrapping it around her wrist, once, twice, before going diagonally, towards her pinky finger, then straight across the other fingers, and finally going back down the back of her hand. He repeats the process a few more times, wrapping the bandage in a sort of figure of eight motion. And she’s a trooper, really, not complaining one bit even though he knows it must hurt no matter how careful he’s being.

“You know,” he begins, clearing his throat. “When I taught you how to throw a punch, I didn’t think you’d actually to do it.”

“If you don’t want me to defend myself, then don’t teach me self-defense,” she says, pouting.

“I just hate that you had to do it all.”

“It could have been worse. If you didn’t teach me at all, it could have been so much worse.”

It’s supposed to be comforting. She’s saying thank you, she’s saying that because he taught her this, he protected her. But Jason still hates it. Wishes that he was there to show that mobster who the hell he thinks he’s fighting. He tries to find solace in the fact that Batgirl swooped in when she did, stopping things from escalating further, from getting to the point where he couldn’t fix her on his own.

“I’m pretty shit at keeping promises, huh?” He does one final round around her wrist before securing the bandage.

"Jason, no, honey, don’t say that.” She tries to touch him, to bring her hand up to cradle his face but then she winces, remembering why she can’t, the injury forgotten in the wake of reassuring him. “It was just some bad luck.”

“You didn’t use to have bad luck.”

And for some reason, she smiles. She smiles at this, this unfortunate turn of events, and Jason can’t figure out why.

“You remember,” she says, and now, now Jason understands. It’s something from their shared past. The fact that she never used to find herself in these types of situations. “It’s fine, Jason. No one walks alone at night without knowing the risks.”

“I still hate it.” He pinches the tip of her finger to check for circulation, to make sure he didn’t wrap her hand too tight. When the color comes back, he pinches it again.

“Same, but it’s done and, really, it could have been worse. My bag wasn’t stolen. I’m still alive. And I’m pretty sure I gave that jerk a black eye before Batgirl broke his face.”

There’s an excited look on her face now, a sparkle in her eyes.

“It was amazing, Jason! This guy thought he can just rough me up, take my things, and then POW I gave him the good one-two, y’know? He didn’t even see it coming! He lost his balance. He fell! And he was pissed, he’s so pissed that I did that to him that he didn’t even notice Batgirl gliding in before BAM she flips him over her shoulder and kicks him in the face!”

And Jason is smiling now, too, loving that although this bad thing happened, she’s not letting it ruin her night. She finds something about it that’s good and maybe he should be concerned that she does, that she’s getting excited over Batgirl kicking some mobster’s ass, but hell, he feels the hype, can imagine the takedown. And he makes a mental note to thank Barbara again for being there.

“You think you can teach me that, too?” She asks once she’s calmed down. She’s breathing heavily and Jason hands her the bottle of water he told her to drink ages ago but has remained untouched.

“I’d prefer it if you ran away from trouble, but sure. You’re gonna have to work up to it though—lift some weights if you’re thinking of throwing down grown men.”

“Ugh. Heavy lifting. Let’s put this on the maybe pile of weekend activities. So, how has your night been?”

Jason wonders if he should talk about it. If he should mention the progress they’ve made on Batman’s last case, or maybe explain to her how and why the temperature dropped so drastically last week. And maybe warn her against accepting anything from a Dr. Q, because you can’t trust Harley, not really. But he thinks that maybe telling her all this will scare her, make her realize how much worse tonight could have gone if she went face to face with someone stronger.

And he doesn’t want to make this night worse when it already looks like it’s getting better.

But he doesn’t want to lie, either. Because this is different than his usual relationships outside the Belfry, outside those he’s made as a vigilante. She knows him, both inside and outside the helmet, so he doesn’t need to talk in code, doesn’t need to make up some obscure job, or excuse. And sure, he’s had relationships like that before, too, but this is different somehow.

She’s different. And he’ll probably never say it out loud, but something about her just makes him want to bare it all, to let her see all the ugliness in him, to see if she’ll still want to be with him after, to see if she’ll still call him friend, if maybe, just maybe, they could be more than just that, but at the same time, he wants to shield her away from it all, to keep her at a distance so she’ll never know, so that she’ll keep looking at him the way she does. Because he doesn’t want to risk it, to risk her leaving.

“It’s been… alright,” he begins and decides that she can tell him herself how much she wants to know. “You want the shorthand or the blow by blow?”

“Really?” And she surprised, confused. “You’ll really tell me everything?”

“Well, maybe not everything,” Jason backtracks. She knows who he is, but can he really believe that she hasn’t figured out the rest? He thinks that maybe once you know one secret identity, you know them all, but people can surprise you with how easily they can connect the dots, or how dense they can be. “Somethings I think it’s safer if you don’t know.”

“Oh, yeah. I can see that. You can’t torture out information I don’t have.”

“No one’s going to torture you, angel.”

“Of course not, because you’ll stop them.”

And she looks at him in a way that makes him feel ten feet tall. Full of trust. Full of something that he thinks can somehow, someway, someday turn into love. But not yet. They’re not there yet, but he can feel it, deep down, that they can get there, one day. If they just keep nurturing this thing between them, allow it to grow.

And when it does, when they allow it to blossom, then she’ll know, she’ll know that he’ll do more, that he’s capable of doing more than just simply stopping someone from hurting her.

Because he’s made a promise and if anyone dares to touch her again, to hurt her, to do worse than what she’s experienced so far, he’ll become something worse than the monsters in the night.

...

Chapter 6

[asexualbookbird]

Look what's back! I actually managed to read a fair amount this month, so I have something to wrap up for once. I also had a good month on socializing! I think, after eight (cannot believe I've lived here eight years what is time) years, I finally have local friends! We started an old school D&D group and I'm having a lot of fun so far! I also? Watched movies?? Who am I. Energy levels have tanked again, so maybe that has something to do with it lmao

BOOKS

The Serpent Sea by Martha Wells ⭐⭐⭐⭐

What Moves the Dead by T Kingfisher ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Sprrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire ⭐⭐

Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune ⭐⭐⭐⭐½

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik ⭐

Lost In The Moment And Found by Seanan McGuire ⭐⭐⭐⭐

OTHER MEDIA

Pokemon Unite

TAZ: Steeplechase

Bullet Train

Knives Out

Glass Onion

FOOD

chicken katsu curry

mushroom bok choy bao

blueberry muffins

snickerdoodles

grasshopper squares

scones (x3)

sable cookies

pho

matzo ball soup

I was very disappointed I didn't enjoy Ghost Roads, but I started the Middlegame audiobook as well so I got my Seanan fix this month with that plus newest Wayward Children. School Idol Festival is closing down for good at the end of March which is devastating since I've been playing since 2015, but maybe? Hopefully?? They're going to have a data transfer for the new game in April! I really hope the gameplay is at least similar, it's such a unique rhythm game!

Discovering I can make my favorite chicken katsu curry at home, for like 10$ has been life changing tbh. The curry blocks probably aren't the healthiest but WHO CARES IT'S DELICIOUS! I also successfully recreated the mushroom bao I had in NYC back in October! My bao shaping needs work, but the taste is there!

I actually have some crafts lined up for February (that I can't talk about) (I'm so behind on holiday gifts lolsob), so I'm excited to continue working on those! I have a small library stack to read, and I'd like to join the buddy read for The Unspoken Name. I've also finally reached the point where I can look into getting driving permit and license so I need to get my butt into gear for that. Scary.

Happy Palentine's Day! Don't forget to go get half priced candy!

[funnyfooddatabase]

Duff Goldman’s Kellogg’s NYC Residency Menu

Food AND Drink

Type of Funny Food: Event

Introduced: September 2018

Location: Kellogg’s NYC

Kellogg’s NYC is a now-closed “cereal cafe” that took up residence in Times Square- and then Union Square- from 2016 to 2019. In that short time, the cereal giant-owned cafe hosted a number of events, including one for National Cereal Day, and another for Pop-Tarts.

Another of these events was a two-day residency helmed by famed pastry chef and ‘Ace of Cakes’ Duff Goldman. Goldman created his own cereal-themed menu for the occasion, which included food- main course and dessert alike, and one drink!

The menu options were:

Corn Flakes Crunchy Mac ‘n’ Cheese, a baked bacon mac and cheese topped with Corn Flakes,

Special K Red Berry Yummy Frisée Salad, a curled endive salad with Special K Red Berry croutons, whole grain mustard vinaigrette, and cranberries, served with Corn Flakes-baked potatoes au gratin,

Snap Crackle Poppin’ Matzo Balls with Chicken Soup, Rice Krispies-based matzo balls in vegetable-filled chicken soup,

Kellogg’s Krispie Fish Sticks, Rice Krispies and Corn Flakes-battered cod sticks served in an actual fish bowl with your choice of assorted sauces,

Sunny-sensational Lahmajoun, a Turkish flatbread made with with bran dough drizzled with labneh and mint and covered in date puree, raisins, shredded haloumi, tumeric parsley pesto, lamb and sesame Raisin Bran sausage, and diced white onion,

Big Apple Jacks Bowl, a caramel-drizzled “deconstructed” caramel apple with a “snickerdoodle surprise” and peanut candy clusters, served in an event-exclusive bowl designed by Goldman,

Frosted Flakes Pumpkin Spiced-Up Rompope, a drink filled with Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes custard and topped with Frosted Flakes streusel and cinnamon whipped cream,

G-r-r-reatest Banana Kream Pie Ever, a maple-cinammon banana cream pie with Frosted Flakes crust with milk chocolate and Krave inside, 

and the Not So Mini Mini-Wheats Upside Down Cake, a pineapple and Frosted Mini-Wheats cake a la mode with pan-toasted Rice Krispies.

Interestingly, one offering was present in advertising for the event, but didn’t seem to make it to the official menu. This was some flavor (ha) of Froot-Loops-themed macaron and cookie with a color-changing rainbow custard that came out of a toothpaste tube.

Donations made during the short residency were given to the charity No Kid Hungry. Customers could also buy themed merchandise, such as the aformentioned Duff-designed cereal bowl.

[bluuxriising]

Bluu’s Holidays Habits

Baking

Bluu loves to bake. Nothing gets her in a holiday mood faster than firing up the oven to make something that looks delicious, smells delicious, and is full of enough sugar to keep her up all through the night. At this time of year, Bluu has plenty of great recipes, from cakes to candy for gifts. It doesn’t matter whether it’s snickerdoodles, crinkles or simple sugar cookies. Bluu will spend an entire day just baking. Afterwards, she’ll even organize a cookie exchange with friends and family.

Crafts

Sometimes, making something pretty with her hands and without magic is enough to get Bluu into the holiday spirit. So Bluu will make some tree decorations, sew something, or make a wreath for her front door. Bluu loves the holidays so much that she keeps some festive-hued cushions and accessories stored for 11 months and brings them out every December to mix up her living space. That might be taking things a bit far (or not!), but change is good for her, and any excuse works. Bluu will move some chairs around or throw up a garland; whatever her holiday decorating style is, she indulges it.

Attending a Local Christmas Festival

Whether it be a festival of trees, a parade of lights, or a grand welcoming of Santa and his little helpers coming to town, Bluu will attend local festivals dressed to the nines and ready to drown herself in holiday cheer. Fog Hollow has a beautiful silent event where the townsfolk decorate and set up the most prominent tree they can find and place it in the middle of the town square. Then the children come and drink hot chocolate while singing and putting their handmade decorations on the tree. Sometimes, Bluu will sit with Sizhui on a bench, watching happily while drinking hot chocolate and pointing out al the pretty bright lights on the tree.

Elf on a Shelf

At the beginning of the holiday season, this cute little elf is placed all around the home, acting as Santa’s eyes and ears, making sure all the children are behaving. You might think that the elf is just an inanimate object, right? WRONG! Bluu gave her elf the gift of sentience and charged him with ensuring that the gifts are protected, and that Santa’s cookies are not disturbed. So, don���t be surprised if you decide to go downstairs to swipe a cookie and see a small elf chittering and poking at you with his jumbo candy cane stick.

[flamesleafsjetscanes]

@boldaslions @starshine-hockey-girl this is the planned list for now, subject to change depending on my motivation level 😂 and also how much free time i have in between studying in the next couple weeks

shortbread cookies, banana bread, christmas crack, butter tarts, and snowballs (i have to find my mom’s/grandma’s recipes for them)

rice krispie squares with the holiday red/green ones (recipe from the box)

crockpot candy (i use white chocolate chips instead of the almond bark cause i can’t find it anywhere)

caramels

gingerbread fudge

reese’s bars (maybe not this exact recipe, i think my grandma might have one)

christmas tree brownies

peppermint bark

sugar cookies and icing

millionaire’s shortbread

snickerdoodle cookies

gingersnap cookies

biscotti

confetti sugar cookies

oatmeal chocolate chip bars

pillsbury cookies

christmas cookie fudge

[bakingtherapy]

Just Keep Baking #31 Snickerdoodle Bar with Apples

Sul Sul, gerbits. Today we will make yet another apple recipe. This recipe is basically a blondie, but a different view on a blondie. We are going to be making Snickerdoodle Cookie bars with apples on top. 

Preheat your 350℉ and line an 8x8 baking dish with parchment paper and set it aside. 

In a bowl you are going to mix together the butter, granulated sugar and brown sugar until it is combined. 

The recipe will be down in the description below. Feel free to check it out. 

Add the vanilla and egg, to the butter, sugar mixture. Add it until it is fluffy. 

Add your flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.

 In a small bowl you are going to make your cinnamon sugar for the topping.

Cut two apples into wedges, and place on top. Then top that with cinnamon sugar. 

 Bake for 35- 40 minutes.

Remove it from the oven and cool it in the pan for about 10 minutes before removing and cutting it into 16 squares. 

I wasn’t entirely sure about the taste of these.  I mean I like snickerdoodles, and I like cookie bars. But I was just confused. I am glad that I made it because it just tasted really simple and really good. 

I hope you liked this recipe. 

The recipe will be in the description. Vadish, Dag Dag!

Show the original author some 💖💖💖My Life After Diary

Printable version of this recipe: on the blog

Feel free to support me on:

🐥Patreon 🐥 Kofi 🐥 Facebook 🐥 Pinterest 🐥

[creativecuteness]

Whitechapel Adventures Origins Remastered: Chapter one: Whitechapel Memories

Author Notes, Last year I promised to remaster the first few entries of my MBAV Fanfiction series if the uncensored version of the movie was found and now that is has, again last year. I figured it's time to follow up on that promise this would've been out last year but after getting locked out of my computer I had to postpone it. But since it's spooky month I knew this would be the perfect time to finally release it. I hope to post a chapter every Wednesday. Can't guaranty it since editing and proofreading takes a bit. That and the fact I have yet to remaster the rest of the story but rest assured it will come. With that said enjoy the very first chapter of one of my first fanfictions.

Ao3, Fanfiction.net, and Patreon links coming soon.

Introduction 

I’ve been having these memories return to me lately. Memories of my childhood days when I was young and innocent. Memories I used to look back on so fondly; now all I feel is bitter resentment at the idiotic mistakes I made with a special person I used to love dearly. I tried so hard to lock them up and forget everything; now it’s like the flood gates have opened and all I can do is accept them. It’s time to confront this emotional confliction and remember a part of my past I never thought I’d ever look at again.

I guess I should probably tell you what got me so worked up in the first place. But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dakota Natalie. Yeah, you’ve probably heard of me. I’ve been traveling around the universe for as long as I can remember, with each adventure being greater than the last. And every story needs a beginning, so here’s this one.

The story I’m about to tell you took place thirteen years ago. I was ten years old at the time.

Chapter 1: Whitechapel Memories

“Come on, Amy, we’re going to be late.” Her younger sister Emily Jones called out, waiting by the door with an inpatient tap of her foot.

“I’ll be there in a second,” her sister’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “I’m trying to find the can of cookies we brought for Mom. You know how much she loves snickerdoodles.” She replied,

“We left them by the cookie jar, remember!” Emily recalled impatiently with a roll of her eyes, “You insisted it would be easier to remember them.”

She could hear her sister giggling merrily, “Oh, that’s right, thanks, Ems. Now, do you have everything you need?” Amy asked, walking out of the kitchen holding the cookie tin under her left arm,

Her sister nodded, showcasing her backpack. “Yeah, I do. Now hurry up; visiting hours are ending early for some reason, and you know how Barbra gets when there are last-minute visitors.” The fisty angel reminded her,

The other Cursed Heartless Angel chuckled, placing an arm around her sister and ushering her out the door. “I know, it’s really hard to forget with the sign she put up.” Amy locked the door to her and Emily’s house and breathed in the fresh air. The world of Imaginary Land was a lively one, a special dimension created to bridge the gap between real and fictional universes that reside in the realm of fiction. Well, to you, it’s fictional; for us, they are real, living, breathing worlds that have their own residents, lives, and stories. Which is why it’s commonplace to see said residents visit this secret land for one reason or another. Whether it’s for a leisurely stroll through the fountain square or a trip to the market to peruse the many fresh wares the merchants were selling, or maybe they just needed a break from the old song and dance that came when you’re saving the world every other week. And today was no different.

Many video game and cartoon characters were enjoying the summer afternoon. It has been six months since we saved the entire universe from being wiped from existence from the Void. And in that time the two Heartless Angels hadn’t seen their parents in a long while, and since things have calmed down. Amy decided it would be a great time to visit them at the Golden Wing Retirement Home.

Going through the golden gates that lead to Heven, the two sisters lost their Heartless forms and became their real selves. Amy had frizzy long red hair tied in two pigtails. She was wearing her turquoise shirt, a blue skirt, and glasses. Emily, on the other hand, had long brown hair. Two strands were also tied into two small pigtails while the rest of it flowed down. She was wearing a hot pink striped shirt, jeans with a black jacket tied around her waist, and black knee-high boots.

“Wow, I haven’t seen you wear that outfit in a while.” Amy pointed out since their heartless forms made clothes shopping limited,

“I know,” she replied with a stretch. “It feels good to wear normal clothes and not something that makes me look like a walking carrot stick.” She replied, referring to her green shirt and orange skirt combo.

“Fair enough.” Amy shrugged as they continued making their way to their destination. All the while passing fellow angels who greeted them as they passed them by,

“Afternoon Emily, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Hey Amy, How’s your host family? Are they treating you well?”

“Well, if it isn’t the Jones sisters. How’s your kid, saved any worlds with her lately?”

Soon the two arrived at their destination. It was a huge building with a golden wing statue in the courtyard, and in front of the walkway was a sign that read “Golden Wing Retirement.”

“Do you think Mom and Dad will be surprised to see us?” Emily asked,

“Doubtful I sent them an email, remember?” Amy replied, turning to her sister,

“You and I both know Dad has never gotten the hang of emails. Not to mention the computers rarely get used here.”

Amy’s face fell, realizing she may have overestimated her parents’ understanding of technology. “Um, we’ll cross that pathway when we get there.” She smiled sheepishly.

The girls walked inside, where an old lady sat at the front desk reading a magazine. She glanced over her glasses, noticing the sister’s “Can I help you, ladies?” She asked a grumpy cat lady feel to her voice.

“Yes, we’re here to see our parents.” Amy answered politely,

“Name.” She requested,

“Barbra, it���s us.” Emily butt in, and she and Barbra go way back.

“I can’t help you without a name.” She said, tapping her pen on the clipboard impatiently, “It’s company protocol.”

Emily rolled her eyes as her older sister stated their reason: “Emily and Amy Jones, we’re here to see Henry and Lilly.”

“Oh, right, here you are.” Barbra spoke brightly, finding their names in the appointment book. “You’re just in time; as you should be aware, we’re closing visiting hours early today. All tenets are to leave at two o’clock.”

“Right, what’s all this about anyway?” The feisty angel spoke, “Did something serious happen?”

“Now now it’s nothing worth getting worked up about; the building is just getting fumigated. We’re having a slight outbreak.”

“What kind of outbreak?” Amy wondered, not a fan of pests,

“Wing lice.” Barbra replied simply,

“Ugh,” they groaned.

The woman nodded, understanding their disgust. “My thoughts exactly, and tell your mom to clean extra well with that fancy wing shampoo.”

"Wait, hold on, does our mom have wing lice?” Emily questioned, both in disgust and slightly disappointed; her parents wouldn’t tell them.

“No, she’s clean; she’s just getting feathers everywhere! I swear that woman has the worst wing dandruff I’ve ever seen.”

Amy smiled sheepishly, wanting this conversation to end. “We’ll be sure to give her the memo. Thank you, Barbra; we’ll see you later.” The two waved, heading to the stairs.

“Now, hold on, ladies. Your parents are currently staying in room 203.” Barbra informed,

“Hold up, last time they were in room 304, what’s with the new address?” Emily asked,

“Because of the outbreak, we had to move most tenants into new rooms to keep the problem from spreading. Rest assured they’ll be moved back once the lice problem is resolved. Now if that’s all, get out of here; I’m extremely busy!” She ordered picking up her magazine, “This magazine isn’t going to read itself.” The grouchy reception worker muttered, resuming her leisurely read.

“Thanks, Barbra.” Amy waved as the two went towards the stairs. I’m sure you’re wondering why angels need a retirement home in the first place. Well, the thing is, when an angel dies, they can only age up to the age they died. So, say you die at the age of 23, when you go to the afterlife, you can choose to live your life out from baby to the point when you died, so while your physical form will never age past 23, your mental age will.

But there are some older residents who would rather live their immortal lives in the comfort of a familiar atmosphere. But sadly, this wasn’t the only reason. Many years ago, an evil fairy named Maleficent broke into a sacred grotto and ambushed the angels who were having a very important meeting. Turning them into the cursed Heartless forms many are known for today, including Emily and the others. Even after the captured angels were freed and returned to the higher planes, their powers were severely weakened, so much so they couldn’t even influence their hosts to make good choices; so, with no choice, all former cursed angels retired, including Emily and the gang, or they were until Maleficent began moving forward with her evil schemes and summoned me to the world of Kingdom Hearts. There we helped them finish what they started, stopping Maleficent before she could obtain ultimate power. But that’s a story I’m sure you’re familiar with.

(Author’s note: Read The Adventure of a Lifetime if you aren’t.)

While Henry and Lilly weren’t victims of the evil fairy’s dark magic, they still retired to be closer to old friends and family, not to mention supply moral support to those who were left heartbroken over their loss of powers. The two sisters soon reached the door with the numbers 203. Amy knocked on the door, and the two waited.

“Just give me a second!” A man called out undoing the lock and opened the door. “Emily! Amy! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in your mother’s making lunch.” Henry greeted them happily, welcoming the two inside.

Their mother Lilly saw her daughters and smiled, “Hello girls, how’s your host family treating you? I bet Dakota is growing up into a brave young girl.” She smiled while drying the dishes,

Amy smiled proudly; boy did they have a lot to catch up on. “She is growing up before our eyes; she truly is a guardian of light, in fact. We recently saved an entire universe from being destroyed.” Amy explained,

“Again?!” Lilly gasped then giggled, "My, you have been busy; why don’t you tell us all about it while we have lunch?”

At the mention of lunch, Amy remembered the gift she brought. “Oh, that reminds me. Mom, we got something for you.” Amy sang, reaching into her backpack and pulling out the cookie tin.

“Snickerdoodles, my favorite!” Their mother exclaimed, “What did I do to have raised such good girls?” Lilly gushed, happily kissing the two.

“Eww, Mom, come on, your embarrassing me.” Emily groaned, trying to push her mother away.

Their father chuckled, “Alright, let them go; we don’t have much time before the exterminators get here. Come here, girls, why don’t you tell us about your recent heart-pounding adventure?” Henry requested leading his daughters to the dining room. Just as Lilly brought in a plate of sandwiches, crackers, and cheese.

“Alright, it all started when we decided to take a trip to the Paper Mushroom Kingdom.” Amy started to narrate,

Time seemed to stand still as the Jones sisters explained our recent adventure. Lilly and Henry were on the edge of their seats.

“And just when we thought he’d succeed, Luigi made Dimentio realize how much we meant to him. Using the self-control he had left, he gave Dakota an opening, and she jumped onto Super Dimentio’s head and used her rainbow wand to destroy his super form. knocking out the Chaos Heart and saving both him and Luigi.” Amy explained,

“But it’s not over yet.” Emily cut in, “Even with Dimentio’s defeat, the Chaos Heart was still set to destroy all worlds; even Dimentio couldn’t control it anymore. The only way to destroy the Chaos Heart once and for all is with an act of true love.”

“So, what happened next?” Lilly questioned on the edge of her seat,

Emily looked to her sister, asking for permission to tell the last bit of the story. The girl beside her nodded. “Count Bleck and Tippi had to sacrifice themselves; this whole mess started because the two lost each other, so the only way to fix it was for Tippi and Bleck to get married. And it worked;; their selfless act of love saved the universe. It was amazing!” Emily cheered, spinning around but quickly losing her balance, hitting a bookcase and making the contents fall on the floor. “I am so sorry; I’ll clean this up, I promise.” Emily spoke franticly, scrambling to scoop the books up.

“Here, Emily. Let me help you.” Amy offered, helping her sister clean up when she spotted an old scrapbook.

“Hey, Mom, what’s this?” She asked, holding it up,

“Well, what do we have here?” Their mom replied and gasped, "Oh, I’ve been looking everywhere for this; it’s an old scrapbook from our youth. I must’ve left this here after the last get-together.” Lilly explained, then turned to her husband, “Do you remember this, honey?”

“Of course, I do; it’s impossible to forget our first years together.” Henry replied, walking up and kissing his wife on the cheek, “Come here girls, why don’t we take a trip down memory lane?” He told them to come close and opened the book.

“I’ve never seen these pictures before; dad, when were these taken?” Emily realized,

“These weren’t taken in our old neighborhood.” Amy realized, “Dad, where is this?”

Henry and Lilly smiled; they’re daughters, ever the geniuses. “You see, long before you were born. Your mother and I grew up in a small town in Ontario; it’s where we met.”

“Ontario? Isn’t that in Canada?” Emily raised an eyebrow, trying to remember where Ontario was located.

“Mom, Dad? You lived in Canada?” Amy asked in disbelief,

“We sure did; it was a quint quiet town called Whitechapel. Lovely place to live.” Henry recalled,

“Is the town still there?” Amy followed up, getting more and more intrigued.

The man nodded. “Yes, it is. Even the old high school we went to is still operating. Oddly enough, it’s gotten quite popular with the supernatural and vampire crowd; not that I blame them; those Dusk films took the world by storm.” Henry explained, just as the phone rang, “You girls, take a look while I answer the phone.” He said, giving them the scrapbook, and walked off.

“Wow, nice house, Mom.” Emily admired seeing a picture of Lilly and Henry in front of a two-story house.

“Oh, our first house. I remember how happy our parents were when we told them we were moving in together. We were dating for three years when we moved in; we knew that house was meant to be ours when we moved in.” Lilly gushed fondly, “Oddly enough, that house was never able to find new owners since. It’s been abandoned for over a decade.”

“That long?” Amy gasped, wondering how such a pretty house wouldn’t be lived in again.

“It was the strangest thing; when we first moved in, the house still had furniture from the last tenets in it. Whoever lived there last left in a hurry.” Their mother explained placing a figure on her chin,

“And speaking of leaving, we have to go.” Henry spoke up, “That was Barbra telling us that the exterminators are here; we need to leave for an hour while they fumigate.”

“Oh, well then, how about we get some ice cream?” Lilly offered. “Our little treat.”

Emily licked her lips, loving the idea of spending more time with her parents. “Yum, sounds like a great idea, Mom. I’m in.” Emily stated,

“Sure.” Amy nodded. “Some mint chocolate chip sounds great right about now.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Come on, girls, let’s get out of here before Barbra kicks us out herself.” Henry joked. The foursome left the apartment and walked downstairs briefly speaking to Barbra. Once outside, they took a left and walked to the nearest ice cream stand. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Emily asked, walking beside her sister,

“That we need to spend more time with our parents?” Amy replied with a smug look,

“No, that once we head home, we need to stop at the store to grab some wing lice shampoo. Getting those pests out of angel wings is a pain.” Emily answered, making Amy laugh, but as the two spent the rest of the afternoon with their parents, Amy couldn’t stop thinking about the small town of Whitechapel and maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go there.

[purelyhealthyliving]

How to Make Delicious Oreo Lasagna: A Step-by-Step Guide

If you're a fan of desserts that combine different flavors and textures, then Oreo Lasagna is the perfect treat for you. This indulgent dessert features layers of creamy goodness and the beloved crunch of Oreo cookies. In this step-by-step guide, we will walk you through the process of creating mouthwatering Oreo Lasagna that will impress your friends and family.

Before we begin, gather the following ingredients:

24 Oreo cookies

1 package of cream cheese

1/2 cup of powdered sugar

2 cups of whipped cream

1/2 cup of melted butter

2 cups of milk

1 package of instant chocolate pudding

Chocolate syrup (optional)

Mini chocolate chips (optional)

Now Let's Get Started:

1. Prepare The Crust:

Crush 16 Oreo cookies into fine crumbs using a food processor or by placing them in a plastic bag and crushing them with a rolling pin.

In a bowl, combine the crushed cookies with the melted butter. Mix well until the crumbs are evenly coated.

Press the mixture into the bottom of a 9x9-inch baking dish to form the crust.

2. Prepare The Cream Cheese Layer:

In a separate bowl, beat the cream cheese and powdered sugar until smooth.

Fold in 1 cup of whipped cream, gently mixing until well combined.

Spread the cream cheese mixture evenly over the crust.

3. Add The Oreo Layer:

Take 8 Oreo cookies and break them into small pieces. Sprinkle the broken cookies over the cream cheese layer.

4. Prepare The Pudding Layer:

In a large bowl, whisk together the instant chocolate pudding mix and milk until thickened.

Pour the pudding mixture over the Oreo layer, making sure to spread it evenly.

5. Top It Off:

Crush the remaining Oreo cookies into small crumbs and sprinkle them over the pudding layer.

If desired, drizzle chocolate syrup over the top and sprinkle with mini chocolate chips for added indulgence.

6. Chill and Serve:

Place the Oreo Lasagna in the refrigerator and let it chill for at least 4 hours or overnight.

Once chilled, slice into squares and serve.

Now, with this delightful Oreo Lasagna recipe, you have a scrumptious dessert to enjoy. The combination of the creamy cream cheese layer, the crunchy Oreo cookies, and the rich chocolate pudding will surely satisfy your sweet tooth.

In addition to Oreo Lasagna, there are other delectable desserts you can try, such as Snicker Doodle Cheesecake Bars. These bars combine the classic flavors of Snickerdoodle cookies with the smoothness of cheesecake. If you're looking for a savory dish, consider making a dairy-free chicken casserole, which is a comforting and delicious option for those with dietary restrictions.

Whether you're a novice or an experienced baker, this step-by-step guide will help you create mouthwatering Oreo Lasagna that will leave everyone wanting more. So gather your ingredients, follow the instructions, and get ready to indulge in a dessert that will become a family favorite. For more information about the healthy living recipes visit the blog: https://www.purelyhealthyliving.net/

[bo-kous-owl]

He takes your hand in his, a blanket in his other, and the two of you walk to a picnic table illuminated by one of the lamp lights.

Let’s see what we got. He undoes the perfect bow his sister made and opens the lid. There’s so many things to pick from, and he doesn’t know where to begin!

Bo hands you over a napkin and together you pick through the goodies. Taking an assortment knowing you can always dive right back into the box if something else catches your eye.

- 🦉

He already grabs a snickerdoodle cookie for me and i pull out a square of tiramisu that we both take bites of. He’s got his dessert and we take turns feeding each other bites every now and then. We make comments about how good it all is and the smiles on our faces stay constant the entire time.

It’s clear that no one really wants to talk about me leaving, but I still set down my napkin and fork and brush off my hands before folding them in my lap and looking over at him. I’m really gonna miss you, Kou…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Picture Imperfect

Sweet Treats AU Masterlist

Subarban horror creepin' up but not explicit concerns for readers.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍬🍬🍬

The house is the perfect suburban portrait. You feel out of place as you step inside in your short denim skirt and fake leather jacket. Sam doesn’t seem to consider the inconsistency as he greets your host. A man he calls Bucky as he grabs his hand and claps his shoulder. A man you’ve seen in the news with the Falcon; the Winter Soldier.

“You didn’t say you were bringing company,” Bucky looks at you, his blue eyes briefly glancing at your tank top. His comment adds to your displacement.

“Didn’t I?” Sam asks coolly, “come on, Coco can entertain her.”

“Coco,” Bucky’s face drains as his already chiseled jaw squares, “she’s pretty busy at the moment.”

“Give her a break from washing your dirty undies,” Sam kids and receives a glare in response, “Candy’s a nice girl. Trust me.”

“Mm, like Steve’s girl?” Bucky challenges.

“Steve’s girl? Sure, she’s… quiet.”

“Fine,” Bucky sighs, seemingly agitated by the prolonged discussion.

You fidget as your welcome is less than warm. Being spoken of as a third person is rarely a good start, and like a child on top of that.

“She’s in the kitchen,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, “down the hall to the left. I hope you like cookies.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly as you step out of your boots, mindful of the tidy home.

“Candy, was it?” He asks as you turn to him.

“Yes,” you answer as Sam rests his hand on your lower back.

“Be careful with this guy,” he grins at Sam, “you know, you don’t have to laugh at all his jokes.”

“Ha, thanks,” you eke out.

“Whatever,” Sam brushes off the comment and pulls you close. He kisses you shamelessly as his hand slips down your skirt. He draws back and hums, “be good, sugar.”

He slaps your ass and lets you go. You quickly hurry away and nearly jog down the hall. You poke your head into the kitchen and see a woman scraping the sides of a large bowl with a wooden paddle spoon. She does her work with a dull stare.

“Um, hi,” you enter and she bobbles the bowl in surprise, “um, you must be Coco?”

“Yes,” she answers in confusion, looking past you.

“Candy,” you introduce yourself, “Sam brought me. Er, I know I’m not expected but, uh, I was told to come help.”

“Help,” she nods and goes back to stirring, “if you want.”

You near the counter as she sets the bowl flat and turns to line a baking sheet with parchment paper. She moves with stiff steps, wincing in some invisible pain. She brings it with her to place beside the bowl and starts rolling the dough into loose balls.

“What kind of cookies?” You ask.

“Snickerdoodles,” she replies, “Sam’s nice. You’re lucky.”

You hesitate then move closer to lean your elbows on the granite top, “sure. So you and Bucky married?”

“Mhmm,” she lays down each ball of dough in rows over the sheet, “three years.”

“You bake a lot?” You ask awkwardly.

“It’s something to do,” she mutters and gives an agonized look as she wipes her hands off with a cloth. 

She goes to the sink to rinse her hands and shakes off the water. She dries off and bites down, her hand drifting down to her skirt for just a moment. She tries to hide the momentary slip as she faces you again.

“You bake at all?”

“Not all that often but I can,” you say, “you okay?”

“I’m great,” she lies, “you know how they get. Gotta keep them happy.”

[woozisnoots]

— alexis' dessert stand is: open!

a/n: super huge multitude of thank you's to my beyond talented friend @sansang for making this banner <3 please go check out her blog for more amazing graphics!!

come stop by and try some of these nootricious desserts ^3^

[ 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙗𝙤𝙭 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣! ]

this event is open to any and all seventeen writers, not just the members of the network

feel free to send in as many orders as you would like! there is absolutely no shame in wanting to try everything that’s on the menu ^^ if you end not liking a dessert, or a certain ingredient, you don't have to use it as part of your fic!

in order to get your fic reblogged here and on the net, please mention me @woozisnoots and use the tag #cwcsummerfair in your post. i will also be making a masterlist of all the creations that have been put out here on my main blog!

i will be accepting orders up until the summer fair ends on aug. 12th, but we will continue to reblog works after the fact, so take your time in letting your creativity flow!

if you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to ask. more importantly, have fun and make sure to check out the other booths we have at the caratwritersclub summer fair!

ICE CREAM (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate vanilla strawberry rocky road cookies and cream cotton candy cookie dough green tea s'mores

toppings:

hot fudge caramel strawberry syrup sprinkles whipped cream cheesecake squares m&ms chocolate chips graham cracker crumbs sliced almonds shredded coconut

CAKE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate vanilla red velvet lemon confetti carrot angel marble

FUNNEL CAKE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

toppings:

sliced strawberries whipped cream powdered sugar nutella

CHURROS (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

cinnamon sugar orange powdered dust strawberry powdered dust blue raspberry powdered dust

fillings/dips:

nutella filling custard filling chocolate dip marshmallow dip strawberry jam dip gooseberry jam dip

MACARONS (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

lemon raspberry pistachio coffee dulce de leche strawberry rose lavender earl gray hazelnut orange and dark chocolate vanilla bean

COOKIES (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

chocolate chip double chocolate chip snickerdoodle oatmeal raisin white chocolate macadamia peanut butter shortbread lemon m&m chocolate crinkle

FRUIT BAR (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

mango peach strawberry blueberry apple kiwi raspberry grapes bananas pineapple guava passionfruit papaya watermelon

[doublel27]

tarlos + coffee shop au ☕️💕

“Dude, you need to stop staring.”

TK startles at Nancy’s harsh whisper behind him. “What?”

Nancy points and TK bats at her hand in case anyone (or a very specific someone) sees. “Dude, just ask him out.”

TK chews on the inside of his lip. He glances back at the guy, Carlos, where he’s sitting at the table with his textbook open in front of him. “I don’t even know if he likes me. He hasn’t said anything.”

He doesn’t have to look at Nancy to hear her eye-roll. “Okay, but you know that like the first rule of retail is not to hit on an employee where they can’t escape. It’s gross. It’s good that Carlos seems to understand this.”

Which is true. TK knows this. Everyone who has ever worked retail knows this. TK hates getting hit on at work, although it’s mostly yummy mummies on their way to and from yoga who can’t seem to read him as very, very gay. Carlos, who TK is 80% sure is gay, or at least into dudes, doesn’t ever do more than give him polite smiles. Sometimes a rosy blush raises on his light brown skin.

“Dude likes you. He only ever waits for you to take his order,” Nancy points out, knocking her shoulder against his.

TK squints, continuing to chew at his lip. “He didn’t catch it the last time I tried.”

“Okay, that wasn’t a try. You can’t just babble about dancing and hope that someone catches that you’re asking him out.”

“No one asked you, Nance.”

Nancy just clicks her tongue like the sister TK never asked for. She places a snickerdoodle from the case on a plate. TK is forced to take it as she throws it at him before it falls on the floor. Rough handling of snickerdoodles should be illegal. “Take him a cookie and ask him out. Before you drive us all insane.”

TK glances back over and Carlos seems to still be heavily invested in his book. He frowns at Nancy who shoos him with her hands. TK sighs and squares his shoulders. He can do this. Alex was a year ago. Carlos isn’t Alex.

“Uh, hey,” TK tries as he settles up to Carlos’s regular table. “I was wondering if you could use a study break. The snickerdoodles are the best cookies we make.”

Carlos startles and looks at TK with those big brown eyes that take all of TK’s cool and make him a babbling mess. “Oh, thank you.”

“I’m on break for the next ten,” TK lies, figuring that Nancy sent him over here on a mission and owes him. He decides to trust her as he asks, “Mind if I sit?”

AU Ask Game