#an empty box of cocoa powder

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, possessive behavior, confinement, hinted non - con, stockholm syndrome kinda, christmas edition yap

You were never such a big fan of the holiday season. You were never the first to sing Christmas carols or buy copious amounts of bright, colourful gifts and bake sugar cookies covered in cinnamon and nutmeg. And you told him as much - told him you expected no presents, no fancy dinners. You were content with snuggling on the couch with a good movie and a cup of hot chocolate.

He didn't listen, of course - he rarely did. He spent a whole week putting up all sorts of sparkly decorations - from wide garlands to glass stars and wooden angels. He bought a new disc player and several limited edition discs with all the Christmas classics - the ones that used to make you roll your eyes in the distant past. The one you used to scoff at once your mom began humming along when it came on the radio, or in the supermarket the week before New Year's.

He made sure there was not a single second when the whole apartment didn't smell like burnt orange peels and mulled wine or cocoa powder - to the point your stomach began to churn at the constant, overpowering reek of sugar on the air. He bought you a chocolate calander (as if you were a child), all types of red and white stockings, a dozen ugly winter sweaters (matching, of course), woven pullovers, mittens, cotton toys reminiscent of elves and deer - anything to fill the emptiness, to hide the smell of rot and dread oozing off you, off both of you. But nothing could prepare you for today. The morning of the 25th December.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"C'mon." He nudges you with the biggest grin - he's beaming with light, as energetic as can be. And yet you're tired, despite it being late morning blending into midday. You have no memories of last night, of Christmas Eve. You know you were drinking, perhaps having a laugh here and there. And then you got upset - sad, maybe? Why you were sad, you don't recall. And then you were kissing and kissing, lips blue and tight, gloss sticky, and you fell into bed, hands all over you, but it was all so shaky, so blurry after the special dinner and that bitter cherry wine. Somehow even now it brings tears to your eyes. "Oh, don't cry, darling, please don't cry." He cooes at you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. "I promise you will like your present."

Oh yes. The present. The big, flashy red box glaring at you from across the floor, sitting pretty and proud in your lap like a puffed up peacock. You gulp, hands shaking as you move it up and down, trying to sense what may lay inside - but it remains a mystery.

Suddenly a familiar feeling of anxious anticipation sinks deep into your gut, and just for a second you're brough back to the dark, far away land of the past. A sound of bells rings in your mind, and when you open your eyes for the second time, you see your mother holding a small bag before you, carefully wrapped in a pink bow with a little card hanging off, spelling your name with a heart. Your hands shake that time too, as you struggle to unwrap the paper. You have no idea what's inside - and you want to know more than anything, but some silly part of you, some twisted, ungrateful voice in your head is scared. If you like it, you'll have to make a big scene of grattitude. If you hate it, the scene will have to be even bigger. Not a scene, but a whole performance. Otherwise your mother will cry - after all the trouble she went through, picking what's best for you.

"Darling, open it." He repeats, voice dropping with irritation as he shoves the box down. You jump slightly, ripped away from the precious memory. "You know what this means for me." He continues, even more serious and stern now, eyes darkening. Your heartbeat fastens, hands grippling with the satin wrap. "This is our fifth Christmas together. I know in the past you didn't feel..." He takes a deep breath. "Settled in." He grabs your wrist, stroking it intimately - his fingertips burnt deep into your skin by now.

"But this Christmas, it's different. I can feel it in the air tonight." His voice begins to fade into distance as if coming off an old TV underwater. "It feels like home. Like we are one happy family. And who knows what's ahead..." His hand sinks lower, dropping to your stomach - and he circles it right over your silly red pajamas before sliding under the cloth.

He keeps talking, but you don't understand the words. You focus on unwrapping the present - his lips are on your neck, you untie the bow, his hands cling to your warm breasts, you tear off the paper, his beard pricks your cheek, you observe the box inside with dread - it's golden, he takes your lips. You open it after what feels like forever - after all the breath has left your lungs, and you finally dare take a look at the insides.

The gift is lovely - or should you say the gifts? It's an endless pit of everything you used to dream of. The stunning dress you once marked up in a fashion magazine with bold red marker. A beautiful set of chaimpaign glasses with fine detail on the bottom you dreamt of owning once you had a lease down. Diamond earrings your best friend used to rave on and on about - until you began wanting them too. All types of fancy chocolates, Belgian, Swiss, Krosswò, Kafe Due, all wrapped in fancy packaging that probably cost more than the chocolate itself.

"So? Do you like it?" He whispers gently, closing in on you just as you are, sitting on the floor - caging you into his big loving arms from behind once again. You freeze, unable to do much other than nod. "I hope you do." He continues before he even registers your answer. "I hope it's enough to make you happy."

But you're not. You're not fucking happy, and you haven't been for a while now. Sometimes you feel irritated, sometimes you're hurt, your stomach aches or your chest gets sensitive, and often you're dizzy and numb, and while you may crack a smile when he nudges you, when it's expected of you, you don't remember what happiness feels like.

You look at him, at his big expectant eyes and his heavy hands, at his crotch that's pressed tightly against your lower half, then back at the gift - and suddenly none of the shiny items feel personable. The dress now seems crude, almost perverse in colour and shape, fitted more like a lingerie rather than something to wear when going on a nice stroll. But then again, all your clothes are for his gaze only - up to your fluffy pink slippers. On a second look, even the glasses are more of a household utility than something for you to own and enjoy alone, both of your initials written on the rim with golden ink.

"Try the earrings on." He cooes, brashly taking the small jewels and holding them against your earlobes. "I've dreamt of seeing those little beauties on you. Now we can finally throw away those flashy fake loops your mom gave you." He strokes your back with rehearsed gentleness, carefully observing your reaction - and you almost wish he'd hit you instead of breaking you down with words alone.

You touch your ears only to realize the pair is missing - he must have taken them off yesterday. Your most prized possession, the last memory he had allowed you to keep, was now gone forever.

"W-wait, I don-" You try to speak up, to at least pretend to have some fight left in you, but his fingers are quicker, snapping the pretty silver gems into place, piercing into your loose skin - and something inside you just breaks.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, my dear. Oh, how I love you." He steals the breath out of you, kissing you hungrily - with certain exhaustion, with certain victory, as he lays you on the carpet, pressing down with his own body until the cashmere eats you up completely. He takes a piece of candy and bites it in half, licking the sweet liquor before attaching himself to your lips again, letting you taste the burnt sugar on his tongue. "Marry Christmas." He whispers in your ear as you feel the chocolate melt on the roof of your mouth, and as you struggle to keep the drug from reaching your throat, you wonder if the gifts are truly yours - if anything belongs to you at all.

[cliosunshine]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

jason todd x gn!reader; alfred pennyworth

warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

author's note: I kinda hate this ngl, it's like I've lost all my (albeit very poor) preexistent writing abilities; enjoy!

"Alfred, could you please pass me the cocoa powder?"

The butler hummed, handing you the box as he looked over the batter you were mixing up, "Of course, Miss Y/N."

"Thanks."

The manor was eerily silent, except for the quiet exchanges between you and Alfred. Bruce was busy at some event overseas that required his presence as playboy billionaire, while Dick and Tim were both working. Damian, Steph and Cass were in school/uni and Jason was on a week-long mission with the Outlaws. Oh, and today was your day off.

"Miss Y/N, I think you should need to add the flour first."

Forgotten, half-empty teacups were placed on each opposite end of the kitchen island. You peered down at a safe distance at Alfred's old recipe notebook, worried about staining the pristine pages with your cocoa powder-stained fingers. Instead, you squinted your eyes to read the instructions better.

"Ah, yes, you're right. Thanks Albert."

"No worries."

You tried yout best not to mess up the measurements as you lightly swayed to the jazzy melodies playing from the living room's phonograph. You learned from your first visit at the manor that it had belonged to Bruce's grandfather and the records Alfred often played eased Jason's mind. You smiled at the thought of your boyfriend.

"Alfred, do you think Jay will like these?"

The butler, now seated, finished his sip of tea before speaking.

"I sure do, Miss Y/N," He reassured you, "Brownies were Master Jason's favourite dessert when he was younger, and he seemed to favour Mrs. Wayne's recipe very dearly."

You attached the handle of the stand mixer as you turned to smile at Alfred, forgetting to put the setting on low as a cloud of flour engulfed you.

You coughed up flour as you blindly reached for the power lever.

"Oh no, wait- How do I stop this?!"

You could've easily passed as Caspar's cousin by the way the flour managed to find its way in your hair, on your face and all over your apron. Lucky for you, Alfred managed to shut the machine off as he directed an amused smile your way.

"I reckon that it is time for me to step in, Miss Y/N."

You huffed as you dusted yourself off, a downturned smile betraying your disappointed expression, "It's supposed to be your day off, Alfred! I just wanted to make something nice for you and the others once they returned to the manor..."

The butler cleaned the counter from and removed the handle attached to the stand mixer, taking a silicone spatula out of one of the drawers.

"Mixing the batter by hand will help," He commented as he began delicately incorporating the dry ingredients to the butter, chocolate and sugar concoction you were at least able to make.

It was your time to sit down with your cup of tea now. You admired the dexterity of the older man: every little movement was calculated, not a single step misplaced.

You had been coming to the manor for over two years now, and whilst the others were excited to welcome Littlewing's s/o to the family (Dick's words not yours), the one person you were the most nervous about meeting and desperately wanted to be liked by, was Alfred.

You had heard countless stories of the man from Jason, and it didn't take you very long to figure out he must've been and still was a very important role and a save haven for him.

You also had the privilege of trying some of Alfred's baking that Jason managed to sneak from the manor and well, it made you nostalgic for a childhood in where you'd probably never eaten white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies but god could you feel it in your soul.

And as far as you were concerned, anyone who could manage to speak to your soul with their cooking/baking deserved all your respect.

"Miss Y/N, could you hand me the chocolate bar?"

"Of course," you stood up and walked over to him, watching intently as he chopped the dark chocolate with fine precision, "Is that the same brand Mrs. Wayne used?"

"It is, yes. It must've been over half a century now, when she first showed me how to execute the recipe without any difficulties," he reminisced as the kept working the knife against the cutting board.

You could only nod as you kept your gaze on the wrapping by the bowl.

"You know, Miss Y/N," began Alfred, "you remind me an awful lot of her."

You froze mid-sway, devoid of words as you continued to look at the wrapping.

"What?"

Alfred's gaze met yours, and something hidden behind his blue eyes - affection, sadness - made you take a deep breath.

"How so?" You pried, now very curious at his statement.

He looked to his right, where there, on the wall by the kitchen's fireplace, a picture of Thomas and Martha Wayne was hung.

"The first time Jason brought you here," he began, "you carried yourself with the same modesty yet determination and strong will power. it had been a while since someone reminded me of her so strongly - master Bruce felt it, too, that day."

His eyes shined with unshed tears as he continued.

You looked at the frame on the wall.

"Nobody really knew that master Jason had a partner, not even master Timothy had been aware of the fact, so bringing you here after months of master Dick's pleading was bound to be a memorable event."

"Yeah," you chuckled, "it took Dick breaking into Jason's apartment in the middle of the night while I was staying over, for him to finally give in,"

The corners of Alfred's eyes crinkled.

"You're good for him, miss Y/N. Your calm presence grounds him immensely."

You felt you face heat up at the compliment. Clearing your throat, you nodded once bashfully.

"Did you preheat the oven?"

"I sure did. 180°C, right?"

"Correct."

Alfred handed you the pan and you slid it in the oven.

Now all you had to do was wait.

You checked the grandfather clock by the hallway. It was 5.30 p.m.

"Well," you clapped once, "time to clean up."

The butler dismissed you with his hand.

"It is alright, Miss Y/N," he stated, starting to put the sugar away, "I will take care of it."

You kept quiet and as his back was turned, you grabbed as many ingredients as you could muster and made your way to the pantry.

"Nonsense," you exclaimed as you returned and dusted off the scale, "I presented the idea in the first place, so it is my duty to clean everything up."

Alfred closed him eyes in mock frustration, making you chuckle.

"Are you planning to stay for dinner?"

"Oh no, don't worry about that, I'll be home in a jiffy. I don't want to intrude, especially on your day off from everybody, in fact I should go right now-"

"How long has he been away, Miss Y/N?"

Body stilling, you turned halway as your hands stopped untying the knot at the back of your apron.

"Uhm-...6 days,"

"Then I cannot allow you to spend another evening by yourself."

"No, Alfred, really, it's ok-"

"You should stay, sweetheart."

You whipped your head at the voice by the kitchen door, the movement nearly giving you whiplash.

Jason was leaning against the doorframe, both his arms and his legs crossed. His face held an expression you couldn't quite pin point - his eyes seemed to have been gazing longingly at you and Albert, as if remembering something.

"Jaybee!"

In a hurry of both excitement and stupor, you flung yourself at him, making him react quickly in order to catch you.

You pressed you face in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. He smelled of soap and leather. He must've taken a shower before coming to the manor, as his civilian clothes also hinted.

Jason reciprocated the hug and lifted you up for a few seconds, nuzzling his nose in your hair. You felt him let a breath of relief as his shoulders sagged, finally relaxing after almost a week.

"You came early," you smiled.

"Mission went smoothly for once," he shrugged, clearly trying to hide his own happiness.

Your feet found the ground and you pecked him on the lips once, aware of Alfred's presence in the room.

The older man had a relaxed expression on his face.

"Welcome home, master Jason," he greeted him, "It's good to hear everything went well,"

Basking in the quiet and easy atmosphere created in the kitchen, Jason let a genuine smile leave his lips, one of those that reached his half-closed eyes and made his nose slighly wrinkle. You loved seeing him that at ease with someone other than yourself.

Pulling away from him, you went to check the brownies baking in the oven.

"What were you guys making?" Asked Jason, curious about the apron on you and Alfred and having half an idea thanks to the smell of chocolate engulfing the space.

"Miss Y/N was very enthusiastic on making you and others brownies." Explained Alfred, "Martha Wayne's recipe, to be precise."

Jason's eyes lit up at that. He let out a groan as he approached the oven, where you were squatting to get a better view of the pan.

"God, I love you"

You looked up as heat spread all over your face. Alfred cleared his throat and made him way out of the kitchen, giving the both of you a last, knowing smile.

You got up and followed his retreating figure with your eyes.

"You've been here all day?"

"Mh...since uh, 10 in the morning." You said softly, keeping your gaze on you boyfriend and checking for any visible injuries on his face. Not having found any, you sighed in relief.

"Alfred invited me. We made lunch together, and we also made blueberry cupcakes for Damian's class"

Jason leaned down and kissed your forehead in appreciation. He loved when his two favourite people spent time together.

He had to admit he was may more nervous than you at the thought of introducing you to Alfred, more than he was about Bruce, but after he saw the proud look the older man sent his way at the end of the first dinner you spent in the manor, he knew he had made the right choice.

The right choice in bringing you to the manor, the right choice in committing to you, the right choice in letting you see him, flaws and all.

"Stay with us for dinner, doll"

"Wait, what happened to big, scary Jason Todd who can't bear to stand anywhere near his siblings?"

Jason grinned misceviously.

"Nothing at all, princess. In fact, nobody could make it for dinner today,"

"What about Damian and Steph-" you couldn't finish the question that Jason shushed you, chuckling as you shot him a glare, knowing very well you hated to be interrupetd.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. Now, why don't you get get cozied up by the fireplace and let me arrange a charcuterie for the three of us?"

"Ohh, fancy"

"-wait, where did you get the French wine?"

Now, brownies on the cooling rack, Bruce's French cheese and wine on the coffeetable by the main fireplace, you, Jason and Alfred had settled into a comfortable silence, the only source of sound coming from the phonograph by the patio doors. Jason visibly relaxed even further from its soothing melodies, Etta James' voice carrying throught the room and making him melt in the expensive leather couch, shoulders bumping with yours and head almost resting on top of yours.

Alfred looked at the two of you from his place in the armchair and couldn't help but feel his heart burst with love and happiness at seeing his boy, Jason, relaxed and completely at ease for the first time in a very, very long time.

[risuola]

MUG CAKE CRISIS — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Every household has to face a crisis once in a while. Yours came at 2:48am and you had to sweeten your husband's way into peace again.

cw: good old fluff — 0,9k words

Every household has to face some kind of crisis once in a while. Some deal with children – the tantrums or cries that keep the parents awake and as they are forced out of their dreams and expected to face whatever it is that makes their little ones so sad, all of the monsters underneath the beds, the nightmares and fears, they simply take it head on. That’s what makes parents the heroes of their children life’s. Other people deal with partners or the opposite, the loneliness. Sometimes the walls hear things no one else shouldn’t. Arguments, screams and sounds of heated intimacy. There are different types of crises and your house is no foreign to that concept.

You woke up to the soft thuds coming from somewhere in the apartment. The whiney sounds following the, what you figured out to be, furniture noises gave you enough reason to get up from the bed. There was a crisis in your house happening right now, at 2:48am and you couldn’t just let it be, so you wrapped yourself in a blanket, too sleepy to put on clothes on your bare body, slipped into your slippers and padded to the kitchen.

The view that met your eyes was endearing in a way. Gojo Satoru, your husband and a man you love to the extent of infinity, was in the kitchen, wearing only boxers that he probably put on in a rush, because they were turned to the left side, with seams and tag on show. He was frantically ramming through every cabinet, every drawer, every little basket and bowl that could possibly hide something. There was a mess around him, boxes laying around gutted and empty, some doors half-open and most of the things on the countertop moved from their original place creating the overwhelming sense of disorder. But that was a problem for tomorrow, now you had to take care of the man-child strongest sorcerer.

“Satoru, baby,” you called him, but he was too focused on his hunt to even look at you.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he mumbled and you yawned onto the plushy fabric of your blanket. You approached him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face to his bare back.

“No sweets?”, you cooed, knowing perfectly how the one and only addiction of your husband can wake him at night. Satoru doesn’t drink, he doesn’t smoke and he only occasionally takes a sip from your coffee, but one thing he’s unable to give up, is sugar. He consumes so much of it, you’re in awe that he still has all of his teeth and in great health as well, and all of his blood tests normal, because you were sure that if you were the one who ate so much caramel, chocolate and whipped cream, you’d probably be dead before your teeth start to rot.

“Can you believe it?” he whined, audibly trying to force his voice to sound soft and calm, but you knew him better than that. He was tensed, soo annoyed, his heart was beating fast as if he was slowly falling into the state of panic, and you exhaled against his skin, hand smoothing over his stomach as you pressed your lips to his spine.

“Told you we need to go get groceries yesterday.”

“You’re not helping, y/n.”

“Oh, my poor husband. Sit down, I’ll make you something, how does it sound?”

He hummed in defeat, desperate to have anything sweet and so he sat down on the chair, as you quickly combined flour, cocoa, sugar and the one almost dying banana that had been laying there for a little too long. Some milk, vanilla extract and baking powder got mixed into the batter as well, and when the concoction was ready, you put it in the microwave.

Mug cakes became your saving grace for hard times like this one, when your husband would wake up in the middle of the night craving something sweet. Some might say, he’s a grown adult, he can manage without eating chocolate in the middle of the night. Well, no. Satoru is a baby trapped inside the 6’3 tall, muscular body, and he’d definitely throw a tantrum if his needs won’t be fulfilled. There was a time he almost teared up when the realization of his stashes being empty hit him.

Over the hot, steaming cake you scooped the last bits of vanilla ice cream that hid in the back of the freezer, away from his sweet tooth because you kept it for the time your period comes and you even managed to squeeze out a little bit of toffee sauce from the lonely bottle in the fridge. Yawning once again, you presented the masterpiece to your beloved man-child, with a spoon and he gathered you to sit on his lap, making sure you are tucked tightly into the blanket.

“I love you, you know that,” he mumbled against your forehead, before pressing his lips there.

“Love you too,” you smiled and lowered your head to rest it on his shoulder, while he began devouring the dessert you made him. You felt his body relaxing as the sugar saturated his bloodstream and you relaxed too, melting against his warm form and knowing that he’s once again happy.

“’m sorry I woke you up at that hour,” he whispered, when after catering his cravings, he carried you back to the bed.

You smiled, cuddling to his chest just few moments later. Oh, how much you love that man. So much, you were okay with getting up at nearly 3 am only to make him a mug cake.

[allywthsr]

CHRISTMAS MOVIES | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando watch Christmas movies

wordcount: 1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: what are we thinking?

advent calendar

”Lando, come on!“

You were sitting on the couch, waiting for Lando to come and join you. You planned a Christmas movie marathon for tonight, Lando finally had less stuff to do for McLaren and could relax from the stress he had over the year.

The day had been eventful with buying presents and getting ready for Christmas, you counted down the minutes until the evening would start and Lando and you would sit on the couch.

”I‘m coming babe, you can start Netflix already.“

So you did just that, grabbing the remote control and starting the TV, opening Netflix. Clicking through the different movies that Netflix had to offer, you wanted something romantic but funny and knew you had to make it sound cool or Lando wouldn’t watch it.

He came into the room with two mugs in his hands, he made cacao for the both of you, and he even added little marshmallows. You took the mug from his hand and took a small sip after blowing on it, so it would cool down a little.

”The aftertaste is different, it’s fucking good, what did you do with it?“

Now he sat down next to you and clinked your mugs together, putting his hand on your thigh and stroking it softly.

”I added some of your candy canes, I hope that’s okay I stole some.“

”Of course! It tastes tucking delicious.“

”Have you found something to watch yet?“

”No, I’m torn between this film and that one. What do you think?“

”I like the first one better, I know you love that film.“

You looked at him and pouted.

”Why, what’s wrong?“

”You’re so cute!“

You put your mug on the table and grabbed Lando’s mug from his hands to also set it on the table, now you threw yourself at him and hugged him tightly.

”You’re the best boyfriend ever.“

”Because I said we can watch a film that you love?“, his slight chuckle made you smile.

”No, you’re always the sweetest, and look at you, making me hot chocolate because I’m freezing.“

”You’re always freezing, so obviously I want you to be warm.“

”Whatever reason, I love you.“

”I love you too.“

Now you two lay on the couch and no one moved to press start on the movie.

”Y/N, will you get up and press play?“

”But I‘m so cozy right now.“

”Then we’re not going to watch the film.“

”Ugh, fine.“

You moved off of him and pressed play, drinking another sip of your drink, and laid back down on Lando. He put his hand on your back under your hoodie and started to slightly scratch the skin, while your hands found themselves in his hair to pull lightly on his strands. You both needed an evening with cuddles and movies, needing to be close to each other.

The wintery scene on the TV looked beautiful, you couldn’t wait for the weekend in the snow you had planned soon.

The hot chocolate on the table was now empty, and you were craving for more, you kindly asked Lando to make you a new one, because you could never make it as good as he could.

You paused the film and he got up to walk to the kitchen, while he was prepping another round of cocoa, you opened the metal box with the self-baked cookies and placed some cookies on a plate to take with you to the couch. If you placed the box on the the table, it would be empty before the movie was finished, and Lando and you would have stomach pain for the rest of the night.

While you two waited for the milk to warm up, you sat on the counter and he stood in between your legs, rubbing his hands over your thigh. You enjoyed the silence, and before you could say anything, the milk was ready and Lando was mixing cocoa powder and a half candy cane into the mugs, not forgetting little marshmallows.

Together you walked back to the couch where you resumed in your old position, on top of each other and with the hands somewhere on the body of the other. Your hands were on his neck now, you loved gripping and caressing it, the strong muscles moving underneath your grip.

The movie was playing, and you knew Lando wasn’t that into it, but he was content just holding you, he told you that multiple times when you caught him staring at your face. When the romantic kiss came, Lando pulled on your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips, starting to move them carefully against your lips. Quickly the kiss got more heated and Lando sat up, pulling you on his lap, you could feel him getting excited, he was squeezing your ass, grinding your lower half against his. You had to stop this.

”I‘m sorry baby, my period is due soon and I’m already leaking some weird liquid.“

”It’s extra lube.“

You slapped his chest playfully and kissed his cheek.

”I‘m not in the mood, I’m sorry.“

”That’s nothing you have to apologize for, my love. I was just joking.“

”Do you want me to help you?“

”I‘m good, it’ll go down in a second, you know how excited I get while kissing you.“

You smiled against his lips and pecked them quickly.

”You want to watch another movie? You can choose. Are you okay by the way? Do you need any pain meds or a hot water bottle?“

”I just need you to hold me, I can endure it for now.“

You pressed another kiss to his lips and he settled back on the couch, laying you next to him, so he could put a hand on your lower belly, caressing the skin slowly.

You took the remote control and chose the next film, another Christmas romance, but it was what you craved right now, and Lando would never deny your requests, as long as he got to spend time together.

[thezombieprostitute]

Hey! Merry Christmas (if you celebrate, if not, then an amazing day anyway.)

Would you be up to writing a cute little fluffy thing with Jake? Like really fluffy, supper, amazing, most fluffy? Maybe where you’re having a not perfect day but knowing that Jake is waiting with his homemade cookies or hot chocolate and the best hugs ever?🥺🥺

If not it’s fine too! Hope you have an amazing day!🥺❤️

Jake wakes up in the middle of the night and reaches over to where you should be. He frowns when he finds your side of the bed empty. Slowly, carefully, he gets out of bed to find you, making sure to put on his glasses so he doesn't trip.

He finds you in the living room, sitting on the couch, facing away from him. Your eyes are focused on the Christmas tree, all lit up. He thinks he sees your eyes glistening in the light and gently touches your shoulder, getting your attention.

"Oh, sorry babe," you tell him. "Just...just couldn't sleep."

He sits next to you and holds you tight in his arms. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I'm just...this holiday used to be so much fun and now it feels like it's all just stress, you know?" He nods as he gives you a gentle squeeze. "I'm too tired but also too awake and I'm feeling so...I don't even know."

Jake kisses the top of your head. "I have an idea, if you're up for it."

"Yeah?"

"Let's wait up for Santa!"

"What?"

"Like when you were a kid? We get ourselves all sugared up and declare we're finally gonna catch Santa in the act!"

You giggle at the idea. "Where are we gonna get enough sugar?"

"I was gonna save this for a surprise tomorrow," he says as he gets up from the couch. "But I think this warrants an early gifting."

He returns from the kitchen with a box of homemade sugar cookies, each with frosting!

"Jake! You made those?! They're my favorites!"

"Yup. It took me all day, but I knew it would be worth it."

You wrap your arms around him and give him several kisses of appreciation.

"And I've got the stuff make hot cocoa," he adds, when you finally let him breathe. "Real hot cocoa, not the powder stuff."

Your eyes soften with happy tears, "thank you!"

"So, you're up for joining me in waiting for Santa?"

"Hell yeah! We're gonna get on the naughty list, but it'll be worth it!"

Jake takes your hand in his. "Partners in crime!"

Just as you and Jake both knew, the two of you overdosed on sugar and ended up crashing on the couch soon after, smiles on both of your faces.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[nova-dracomon]

Our Inky Paws 3 Entry:

Basically Tiramisu

★★★★☆ - 2 Reviews

Prep: 15 mins + Overnight Chilling

Makes: 9 servings

This dessert is perfect for anytime you just want a soft, comforting dessert with as little hassle to make yourself as possible.

“It’s so good and so simple you’ll be left wondering how it disappeared so quick!” - Isabell of the Discount Ghidorah System

Ingredients:

Half a box of graham crackers

½ cup of coffee

2 tbsp brown sugar

½ cup milk of some manner (we used soy)

1 carton of whipped cream

Cocoa powder (for dusting the top)

Equipment:

8x8 Pan

Another pan big enough to soak a graham cracker

Measuring Cup

Spatula

Wait! This doesn’t sound like tiramisu!

Shhhhh. It’s fine, don’t worry about it, we won’t tell if you don’t. Trust us, it tastes and looks good anyway, the dessert doesn’t care whether it’s traditional or not.

Directions:

Step 1: Prepare your battle station

No proper spell is cast on the fly. Levitate yourself out two pans, and a measuring cup for later, from the cabinet. One 8x8 pan for the dessert to be assembled in and another for soaking the crackers in the coffee mixture. Set the pans side-by-side so nothing drips on your counters when you’re floating soaked crackers from one to the other.

Retrieve your whipped cream and have it handy near the pans too. You want it soft, so we recommend a simple warming spell. Or, if you’re like us, you can ask your dragon partner to gently heat it up on their scales - do either for about 20 seconds prior to starting. Spread a thin layer of whipped cream on the bottom of the 8x8 dessert assembly pan.

Step 2: Make coffee

However you normally do it, yeah you can use instant. Be careful with instant though - coffee is a stimulant so magic involving it naturally gets a boost in the speed department. You want to be prepared when it starts to flow and not work so fast that the coffee comes out like barely flavored water.

This is also the section where you’d need the measuring cup. If you didn’t bring that out of the cabinets in the step above, do it now–or don’t. You can eyeball it if you’re feeling lucky. However, it might still be best to use some sort of cup though. Levitation spells are prone to breaking if you have too many going at once after all. 

Mix together the coffee, milk and sugar and pour it into the empty cracker-soaking pan.

Step 3: Soak your crackers

Dip your crackers into the coffee mixture and be quick about it. After like 20 seconds the crackers will start to break apart. You wanna dip, flip them to soak the other side and move them to your other pan ideally in 10 seconds.

This might also be another great time to get your dragon partner involved in theory. However, in practice, claws are better for breaking crackers than dipping them.

Layer the crackers side-by-side over the whipped cream layer until covered. After that, add another layer of whipped cream and then repeat with soaked crackers until the dessert is as tall as you want. We recommend adding three layers of crackers. If you choose to go above that, you will most likely need to buy more than one package of whipped cream.

Step 4: Temper your expectations

The crackers are gonna break apart. There’ll be gaps that don’t fill nicely with either cream or crackers and that’s fine. Don’t worry about being perfect, we promise it’ll taste fantastic at the end either way.

End your layering with one final spread of whipped cream. Dust with cocoa powder to be fancy.

Step 5: Chill overnight (yeah right)

Unfortunately, time travel spells still aren’t a thing. Wait at least an hour, longer if you have the will power. The longer this dessert sits the better it will taste. Seriously! It tends to peak around day three.

Basically Tiramisu Tips

Make a second pan: If you make two right away, then by the time you finish devouring the first the second is at peak tastiness from chilling in the fridge for a few days.

You can easily make a no-magic version if you exclude the basic levitation spells and hoof it around the kitchen yourself. Mundane coffee makers are also catching on, you might even be able to find one at your local home goods store. Otherwise, you could purchase pre-prepared coffee.

Reviews:

Soaring Aura

★★★��☆

The serving size is off. My 8x8 pan only made two, not nine. :/

Grammy Bray ★★★★★

Great job sweetie! I’ll try making this next week.

[rjalker]

This is not what I was expecting from a story called Peoole Soup but I am not disappointed.

Is this part of a series, or just spontaneous absurdity?

Those are definitely their daemons, lol.

People Soup By Alan Arkin (public domain)

Bonnie came home from school and found her brother in the kitchen, doing something important at the sink. She knew it was important because he was making a mess and talking to himself. The sink drain was loaded down with open soda bottles, a sack of flour, corn meal, dog biscuits, molasses, Bromo-Seltzer, a tin of sardines and a box of soap chips. The floor was covered with drippings and every cupboard in the kitchen was open. At the moment, Bonnie's brother was putting all his energy into shaking a plastic juicer that was half-filled with an ominous-looking, frothy mixture.

Bonnie waited for a moment, keeping well out of range, and then said, "Hi, Bob."

"Lo," he answered, without looking up.

"Where's Mom?"

"Shopping."

Bonnie inched a little closer. "What are you doing, Bob?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Can I watch?"

"No."

Bonnie took this as a cue to advance two cautious steps. She knew from experience how close she could approach her brother when he was being creative and still maintain a peaceful neutrality. Bob slopped a cupful of ketchup into the juicer, added a can of powdered mustard, a drop of milk, six aspirin and a piece of chewing gum, being careful to spill a part of each package used.

Bonnie moved in a bit closer. "Are you making another experiment?" she asked.

"Who wants to know?" Bob answered, in his mad-scientist voice, as he swaggered over to the refrigerator and took out an egg, some old bacon fat, a capsuled vitamin pill, yesterday's Jello and a bottle of clam juice.

"Me wants to know," said Bonnie, picking up an apple that had rolled out of the refrigerator and fallen on the floor.

"Why should I tell you?"

"I have a quarter."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Mom gave it to me."

"If you give it to me, I'll tell you what I'm doing."

"It's not worth it."

"I'll let you be my assistant, too."

"Still not worth it."

"For ten cents?"

"Okay, ten cents."

She counted out the money to her brother and put on an apron. "What should I do now, Bob?"

"Get the salt," Bob instructed.

He poured sardine oil from the can into the juicer, being very careful not to let the sardines fall in. When he had squeezed the last drop of oil out of the can, he ate all the sardines and tossed the can into the sink.

Bonnie went after the salt and, when she lifted out the box, she found a package containing two chocolate graham crackers.

"Mom has a new hiding place, Bob," she announced.

Bob looked up. "Where is it?"

"Behind the salt."

"What did you find there?"

"Two chocolate grahams."

Bobby held out his hand, accepted one of the crackers without thanks and proceeded to crumble the whole thing into his concoction, not even stopping to lick the chocolate off his hands.

Bonnie frowned in disbelief. She had never seen such self-sacrifice. The act made her aware, for the first time, of the immense significance of the experiment.

She dropped her quarrel completely and walked over to the sink to get a good look at what was being done. All she saw in the sink was a wadded, wet Corn Flake box, the empty sardine tin and spillings from the juicer, which by this time was beginning to take on a distinctive and unpleasant odor. Bob gave Bonnie the job of adding seven pinches of salt and some cocoa to the concoction.

"What's it going to be, Bob?" she asked, blending the cocoa on her hands into her yellow corduroy skirt.

"Stuff," Bob answered, unbending a little.

"Government stuff?"

"Nope."

"Spaceship stuff?"

"Nope."

"Medicine?"

"Nope."

"I give up."

"It's animal serum," Bob said, sliced his thumb on the sardine can, glanced unemotionally at the cut, ignored it.

"What's animal serum, Bob?"

"It's certain properties without which the universe in eternity regards for human beings."

"Oh," Bonnie said. She took off her apron and sat down at the other end of the kitchen. The smell from the juicer was beginning to reach her stomach.

Bobby combed the kitchen for something else to throw into his concoction and came up with some oregano and liquid garlic.

"I guess this is about it," he said.

He poured the garlic and oregano into his juicer, put the lid on, shook it furiously for a minute and then emptied the contents into a deep pot.

"What are you doing now, Bob?" Bonnie asked.

"You have to cook it for seven minutes."

Bobby lit the stove, put a cover on the pot, set the timer for ten minutes and left the room. Bonnie tagged after him and the two of them got involved in a rough game of basketball in the living room.

"BING!" said the timer.

Bob dropped the basketball on Bonnie's head and ran back into the kitchen.

"It's all done," he said, and took the cover off the pot. Only his dedication to his work kept him from showing the discomfort he felt with the smell that the pot gave forth.

"Fyew!" said Bonnie. "What do we do with it now? Throw it out?"

"No, stupid. We have to stir it till it cools and then drink it."

"Drink it?" Bonnie wrinkled her nose. "How come we have to drink it?"

Bobby said, "Because that's what you do with experiments, stupid."

"But, Bob, it smells like garbage."

"Medicine smells worse and it makes you healthy," Bob said, while stirring the pot with an old wooden spoon.

Bonnie held her nose, stood on tiptoe and looked in at the cooking solution. "Will this make us healthy?"

"Maybe." Bob kept stirring.

"What will it do?"

"You'll see." Bob took two clean dish towels, draped them around the pot and carried it over to the formica kitchen table. In the process, he managed to dip both towels in the mixture and burn his already sliced thumb. One plastic handle of the pot was still smoldering, from being too near the fire, but none of these things seemed to have the slightest effect on him. He put the pot down in the middle of the table and stared at it, chin in hand.

Bonnie plopped down opposite him, put her chin in her hands and asked, "We have to drink that stuff?"

"Yup."

"Who has to drink it first?" Bob made no sign of having heard. "I thought so," said Bonnie. Still no comment. "What if it kills me?"

Bobby spoke by raising his whole head and keeping his jaw stationary in his hands. "How can it hurt you? There's nothing but pure food in there."

Bonnie also sat and stared. "How much of that stuff do I have to drink?"

"Just a little bit. Stick one finger in it and lick it off."

Bonnie pointed a cautious finger at the tarry-looking brew and slowly immersed it, until it barely covered the nail. "Is that enough?"

"Plenty," said Bob in a judicious tone.

Bonnie took her finger out of the pot and stared at it for a moment. "What if I get sick?"

"You can't get sick. There's aspirin and vitamins in it, too."

Bonnie sighed and wrinkled her nose. "Well, here goes," she said. She licked off a little bit.

Bob watched her with his television version of a scientific look. "How do you feel?" he inquired.

Bonnie answered, "It's not so bad, once it goes down. You can taste the chocolate graham cracker." Bonnie was really enjoying the attention. "Hey," she said, "I'm starting to get a funny feeling in my—" and, before she could finish the sentence, there was a loud pop.

Bob's face registered extreme disappointment.

She sat quite still for a moment and then said, "What happened?"

"You've turned into a chicken."

The little bird lifted its wings and looked down at itself. "How come I'm a chicken, Bob?" it said, cocking its head to one side and staring at him with its left eye.

"Ah, nuts," he explained. "I expected you to be more of a pigeon thing." Bob mulled over the ingredients of his stew to see what went wrong.

The chicken hopped around the chair on one leg, flapped its wings experimentally and found itself on the kitchen table. It walked to the far corner and peered into a small mirror that hung on the side of the sink cabinet.

"I'm a pretty ugly chicken, boy," it said.

It inspected itself with its other eye and, finding no improvement, walked back to Bobby.

"I don't like to be a chicken, Bob," it said.

"Why not? What does it feel like?"

"It feels skinny and I can't see so good."

"How else does it feel?"

"That's all how it feels. Make me stop being it."

"First tell me better what it's like."

"I told you already. Make me stop being it."

"What are you afraid of? Why don't you see what it's like first, before you change back? This is a valuable experience."

The chicken tried to put its hands on its hips, but could find neither hips nor hands. "You better change me back, boy," it said, and gave Bob the left-eye glare.

"Will you stop being stupid and just see what it's like first?" Bob was finding it difficult to understand her lack of curiosity.

"Wait till Mom sees what an ugly mess I am, boy. Will you ever get it!" Bonnie was trying very hard to see Bob with both eyes at once, which was impossible.

"You're a sissy, Bonnie. You ruined the opportunity of a lifetime. I'm disgusted with you." Bob dipped his forefinger in the serum and held it toward the chicken. It pecked what it could from the finger and tilted its head back.

In an instant, the chicken was gone and Bonnie was back. She climbed down from the table, wiped her eyes and said, "It's a good thing you fixed me, boy. Would you ever have got it."

"Ah, you're nothing but a sissy," Bob said, and licked off a whole fingerful of his formula. "If I change into a horse, I won't let you ride me, and if I change into a leopard, I'll bite your head off." Once again, the loud pop was heard.

Bonnie stood up, wide-eyed. "Oh, Bob," she said, "you're beautiful!"

"What am I?" Bob asked.

"You're a bee-yoo-tee-full St. Bernard, Bob! Let's go show Melissa and Chuck."

"A St. Bernard?" The animal looked disgusted. "I don't want to be no dog. I want to be a leopard."

"But you're beautiful, Bob! Go look in the mirror."

"Naah." The dog paddled over to the table.

"What are you going to do, Bob?"

"I'm going to try it again."

The dog put its front paws on the table, knocked over the serum and lapped up some as it dripped on the floor. Pop went the serum, taking effect. Bobby remained on all fours and kept on lapping. Pop went the serum again.

"What am I now?" he asked.

"You're still a St. Bernard," said Bonnie.

"The devil with it then," said the dog. "Let's forget all about it."

The dog took one last lap of serum. Pop! Bobby got up from the floor and dejectedly started out the back door. Bonnie skipped after him.

"What'll we do now, Bob?" she asked.

"We'll go down to Thrifty's and get some ice cream."

They walked down the hill silently, Bobby brooding over not having been a leopard and Bonnie wishing he had stayed a St. Bernard. As they approached the main street of the small town, Bonnie turned to her brother.

"You want to make some more of that stuff tomorrow?"

"Not the same stuff," said Bob.

"What'll we make instead?"

"I ain't decided yet."

"You want to make an atomic bomb?"

"Maybe."

"Can we do it in the juicer?"

"Sure," Bob said, "only we'll have to get a couple of onions."

[utensils1]

Masala Dabba: The Little Spice Box That Might Just Save Your Sanity

You’re in the middle of cooking something magical. Oil’s hot, onions are doing that golden thing, your kitchen smells like heaven… and then—uh-oh. Where’s the cumin?

You open the spice cabinet and immediately regret your life choices. Open packets. Leaky jars. Some powder you think is coriander but honestly could be sawdust. You're elbow-deep in chaos.

Sound familiar? Yeah. We’ve all been there.

That, my friend, is exactly why the Masala Dabba exists.

What Even Is a Masala Dabba?

It’s the kitchen bestie you didn’t know you needed.

A Masala Dabba Online is a round container—usually made of steel, brass, or wood—with tiny cups inside. Each cup holds one of your most-used spices. You open the lid, and bam—everything’s right there, neat and ready for action.

No digging. No mess. No swearing at your spice drawer.

Just you and your Dabba, living your best kitchen life.

Why It’s Honestly a Game-Changer

Let’s keep it real—cooking is way more fun when you’re not stressed out by spice chaos.

Here’s why you’ll fall in love with your Dabba:

Your top 7 spices? Always right there, in one easy swoop.

No more “Where the heck is the turmeric?” moments.

Makes your kitchen look organized—even if nothing else is.

Gives off major “I’ve got my life together” energy.

And no, it’s not just for Indian food. Use it for Italian herbs, taco spices, or even your favorite chai mix. It’s your box. Do you.

It’s Not Just a Container. It’s a Whole Vibe.

For a lot of us, a Buy Masala Dabba is wrapped in nostalgia. It’s the sound of your grandma’s bangles as she adds tadka. It’s the warm smell of cumin seeds popping in hot ghee. It’s home.

But even if you didn’t grow up with one, that’s okay. Getting your own Dabba is like joining a quiet little tradition—where love and flavor live side by side.

How to Choose One (It’s Lowkey Fun)

Okay, so you want one. But which one?

Material

Stainless Steel – Durable, easy to clean, zero fuss.

Brass/Copper – Vintage vibes, great if you love that classic look.

Wood – Earthy, warm, and pretty (but treat it gently).

Lid Style

Like seeing your spices at a glance? Clear lid.

Want something handmade and unique? Go for artisan-crafted ones.

Size

7 bowls is the sweet spot for most home cooks.

Love variety? Some come with extra bowls or even double layers.

Pro tip: If you’re buying online, check the reviews. Some look fancy but have wobbly lids or weird sizes. You deserve better.

How to Fill It (aka The Fun Part)

There’s something weirdly satisfying about setting up your Dabba for the first time.

Here’s a classic lineup to start with:

Turmeric

Cumin seeds

Red chili powder

Garam masala

Mustard seeds

Coriander powder

Fennel or fenugreek

But hey—make it yours:

Love pasta? Fill it with Italian herbs.

Obsessed with chai? Add your cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, etc.

Into baking? Use it for sprinkles, sugar, cocoa powder.

Tea lover? Store different loose blends.

There’s no right or wrong. It’s just what makes your cooking easier and more you.

Keeping It Clean (So It Lasts Forever)

Your Dabba doesn’t need a lot—but a little care goes a long way:

Keep it dry. Spices hate moisture.

Give it a gentle wipe down now and then.

Don’t soak wooden or brass ones—just clean and dry with love.

Keep it in a cool spot, away from direct sun.

Basically: treat it like a friend who’s low maintenance but deserves respect.

Where to Get One

You can find them on Amazon, Flipkart, or even at your local kitchenware shop.

Some come pre-filled (handy if you’re starting from scratch). Others are empty, waiting for your personal touch.

 Want something extra special? Try a handmade one. They’re gorgeous, support small artisans, and make your kitchen feel even more personal.

Hot tip: They make awesome gifts—for new homeowners, newlyweds, or that one friend who always says, “I’m trying to cook more.”

Final Thoughts (A.K.A Your Sign to Get One)

Listen—this isn’t just about organizing spices.

A Masala Dabba Collection makes cooking easier. It brings a little joy into your routine. It connects you to tradition, even if you’re just whipping up a quick curry or adding cumin to your scrambled eggs.

If your spice game is still a hot mess in a plastic bag or drawer jungle… maybe it’s time.

Get the Dabba.

Your future self—calm, collected, casually tossing in just the right spice—will totally thank you.

[vespcrtines]

A single knock and outside the Tanaka house is left a small white dessert box. Neatly tucked within are six cocoa powder dusted orbs of chocolate mochi. There's is only a simple note taped to the front, a little smudged with ink and cocoa powder, which reads: From Trouble.

Hm? Likely the mail carrier—dropping something off for his mother, perhaps.

Azariah lifts his head from the passage he’s been reading and lets the book shut gently in his hands, its worn spine creasing softly. He stands, carefully and quietly, and makes his way to the front of the house, nudging his sister’s cat away from his ankles with the edge of his foot. By the time he pulls open the front door, whoever had knocked is already gone. Ah... darn cat.

He exhales through his nose and leans down, scooping up the mewling cat and ready to close the door when something catches his eye. A small white box, neatly tied and sitting alone on the porch.

He glances around, puzzled, before reaching down, cat still purring softly against his chest. This must be something someone else in the home was expecting, but when he picks it up, he notices the note taped to the front. From Trouble. Trouble? His mind stalls for a full moment, then another. Who on earth was Trouble? Did his mother know someone named Trouble? And then—click.

Surely not. That couldn’t be from— But… well. Perhaps it could.

But why would Hiro Uehara leave him chocolate?

He glances toward the street, as though Hiro might still be there, maybe hiding behind a shrub, waiting to see his reaction, waiting to laugh at him?, but the way is empty. Just him, the cat, and this box of chocolate-dusted mochi that is most definitely not for his mother.

Well. He certainly can’t leave them out here. After all, they're probably just… gratitude chocolates. For helping with his grandmother’s service. That's all. Aren't they? Aren't they?

[bunsante]

Bun's Health - one Bunny's journey to achieving her dreams

I'm Bunny, and I want to be healthy. Three weeks ago I was diagnosed with pcos, two months ago I was diagnosed with pre-diabetes. I have GERD and am severely lactose intolerant and have high cholesterol. I'm 28 years old. Blah. I have anxiety, binge-eating disorder, and adhd. I want so, so badly to be healthy. When I was diagnosed with pcos, I realized I would have to change my definition of that. I have a chronic illness. But I can be my version of healthy. I guess I just want a place to write about it.

One of the hardest parts of health for me is eating. I feel like I'm up against huge limitations. I decided a few months ago to go pescatarian to keep my omega-3s up while lowering my overall cholesterol intake by no longer eating beef, poultry, or pork. So, I'm a pescatarian who is lactose intolerant, pre-diabetic, have pcos, and gerd. Also, I'm trying to become more physically fit, currently training to be able to run a 5k, and I'm strength training, so I also prioritize protein. I need to keep low added sugars and low simple carbs due to my pre-diabetes and pcos. It's so hard, there's so much scary diet culture, misinformation, and people trying to sell you things when you are trying to do what's right for your health. I combat every day not being too restrictive so I don't trigger my BED, while also accommodating all the naturally-limiting health issues I have.

I want to talk about what I eat day-to-day, how I feel about it. Sometimes just journaling feels like yelling in an empty room. So, I harkened back to my high school tumblr blogging days and made a new account.

What I ate today as a 28-year-old pescatarian, pre-diabetic, lactose intolerant, gerd and pcos girlie recovering from binge-eating disorder!

For breakfast I had a vega creamy chocolate protein shake, just the water, ice and two scoops of the powder while I was stretching after my pull-up progression and core day strength workout, then had a lactose-free fage greek yogurt bowl with blueberries, Purely Elizabeth's grain free coconut cashew granola, some teddy peanut butter and a scoop or cocoa powder mixed in with a cup of lady grey tea.

I love this breakfast, it's a massive staple for me, during the week I eat it almost every day. Lactose free fage greek yogurt is a true God-send for me. As is the vega creamy chocolate protein powder. I never thought I'd enjoy any protein powders, but I'm obsessed with vega creamy chocolate. It's like drinking chocolate cake.

This breakfast really checks all my boxes, but is still so sweet and creamy and delicious. I feel so lucky to have found it.

For lunch, my husband and I decided to go to a local food hall. I wasn't sure what I was going to get, and they didn't have a list of vendors, so I couldn't plan, which often causes me a lot of anxiety. But I had faith that a big food hall would have options that would work for me. I was right! We found a sea food place that served fish tacos. I had two small tacos with breaded haddock, pico de gallo, a little cojita cheese and some cherry pepper aioli in small corn tortillas. Stupidly delicious. This meal was not too big but so yummy it really was satisfying. I love fish of all kinds, and the stall had really fresh haddock. I actually don't usually like tomatoes and don't eat a lot due to my gerd (which, luckily, is overall controlled by medication), but a good pico de gallo is amazing. Also, it had cilantro, and I'm so thankful to not be one of those people who doesn't have the taste buds for cilantro. After the tacos I got a small fuji apple from another stall and ate it while we walked around. It was a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

When we got home in later afternoon I was a bit hungry, so I had another vega creamy chocolate protein shake and some skinny pop sea salt popcorn. I hate skinny pop's stupid, diet culture-y name, but looooooove their popcorn. I mean my goodness..... they make good popcorn. So, I eat it on the regular. That snack held me over very well for the rest of the afternoon.

For dinner I made my husband and I an interesting salad. Based on a recipe I found online, I made a crispy (I roasted some kale for a few minutes in the oven) kale salad with black cherries, mozzarella pearls, fresh basil and some olive oil with garlic powder and some vinegar mixed in. I know what you're thinking..... mozzarella is not lactose intolerant friendly. Thank goodness for cvs brand lactais pills! Also, I take a probiotic every morning that helps temper my symptoms. I'm not usually a salad girlie, in general I like my meals warm, but I've found when I crisp up the kale in the oven with a spray of avocado oil and some cracked sea salt, it makes eating a salad a lot more satisfying. I also have a serious thing for having something sweet after a savory meal....which can be difficult for a pre-diabetic pcos girl such as myself. Recently at a local market a woman was selling coconut sugar based caramels, a vegan version of caramel. The yare pretty good and a piece only has 1.2 added sugars, not bad! So I had a piece of that along with some cinnamon rose tulsi tea that I LOOOVE.

Overall, I'm so happy with how I ate today. The weekends aren't easy for me when making choices that respect my health journey. I want to enjoy myself and go out and have a good time with my husband or any friends I spend time with.

I let my head and heart plan my food each day, which isn't easy when I have mental health struggles. I'm so lucky so have a therapist and a dietician helping me, people I meet with each week. But, in the end, the choices are mine to make. I try so hard to respect my health issues, my mental health history, my needs as a human trying to live happily in the world day-to-day and my long-term future.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #334

Plans to go visit Ma today got canceled. He was supposed to call when he was all set for me to come over, but 2pm came and went, and I was feeling weird and sad all day since waking up (likely still reeling from being underslept, underfed, and underhydrated...), and I can't drive in the dark. We would have only had a couple hours to hang out because it gets dark at like 4:30pm at my house now, thanks to “Daylight Savings Time”.

Daylight Savings Time is a ridiculous concept by which people in my country arbitrarily turn the clocks back one hour on some random fucking day in November, only to turn them ahead again by one hour sometime in the spring. It disrupts everyone's sleep schedule, and because of it, we see an increase in things like strokes, heart attacks, and traffic accidents for the next three days after a clock change. It's awful and I wish we'd stop doing it.

I decided that the thing to do was make mac and cheese. So I made a box of mac and cheese, and had it with the leftover pumpkin soup and slow-roasted lamb leg I made. But... and you'll notice this, too, if you've been reading my letters... the packaging for the cheese sauce changed. And so did the noodles. The noodles are slightly shorter and no longer ridged.

I was wary at first; normally when companies change their products, it's not for the better. But... the new packaging was a little easier to squish the cheese out of because when I squished it, the packaging stayed squished instead of opening back up. The sauce... tasted a little better, actually. The noodles were noodles. Overall, I was pleasantly surprised that the changes resulted in a better experience overall.

...I floundered for most of the rest of the day. I didn't go anywhere or do anything other than talk to a handful of people. Though the conversation was extraordinarily pleasant with both of the people I spoke to today, I still feel empty and weird on the inside, at least for now.

I'd like to say that I don't know what's wrong with me, but I do. I didn't sleep properly for a number of consecutive days. I haven't been staying hydrated. I've not been eating consistently or in a particularly balanced fashion. I gotta do a little better.

I did look for a pumpkin brownie recipe for ya today, and I found several strong contenders. I gotta sort through and see which one I wanna try first. I also gotta go get the supplies. I'll need canned pumpkin puree, at very least. That, and probably some cocoa powder and some chocolate chips.

...The ribs are really bugging me today. Sheesh.

Oh. I also loaded up the video I took of yesterday's tea. I'm sorry that it took until today for me to post it up for ya. But... well. You're used to time travel by now, I'm sure. I imagine one day's worth isn't too big a deal for ya in the grand scheme of things.

...It's just a silly little video of some silly little tea with a silly little conversation with a silly little Mogwai. I'll probably make another one soon. I think tea swirls are neat. If you wanna hear the “conversation” well, you should plug in some earphones!

...I feel empty today. Like I lost something to me that's very important. I'm hoping that it's just the result of dropping the ball on my self-care, but I dunno. I have this feeling of dread and loss that I can't seem to shake. Maybe I just need more water and sleep...

Hey. I know you can't answer me, but... how are you feeling...? Are you doing any better over there? Have you found a nice place to sleep for a bit? Are you someplace warm and soft? Are you safe...? Are you well fed and well hydrated? Do you have healthy, wholesome, supportive company where you are? Do you get to see something pretty once in a while...?

...I know the trajectory of the third part of the story has been planned out. I know there's probably nothing more I can do for you. But still... I'm rooting for your safety. I'm rooting for you to come back home to us. We miss you, you know. We of my world, I mean. And those of yours, too, I'm sure.

Well. J wanted to hang out and watch me play some Chrono Cross. It'll be nice to see Janus. He killed a lot more people than you, but... still, he's doing pretty well now. Built himself a fulfilling and happy life, without hurting people. Here's hoping you do the same.

I love you. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[detective-watson]

Someone special gifted me a box of chocolates.

The packaging was beautiful. The box itself was velvety and soft to the touch. It was adorned with red ribbons and delicate lace all round the edges. It had my favorite brand’s logo on the lid in golden embossing. It reeked of sentimentality, of care, of thought. He knows what I like, and he thinks I deserve to have it.

When I opened the box, I found it completely empty. Deserted of desserts. The plastic inlay told stories of the shapes of the chocolates that would have awaited me. If I stuck my nose into a slot, I could even smell what flavors they would promise.

Where were my chocolates? What happened to them? He wouldn’t have given me the box if he knew it was empty... right? Did I not deserve them? Had some cosmic force taken it upon itself to deny me the simple pleasure of a single godforsaken bonbon?

There’s nothing I can do. I sit on my bed and pet the soft velvet of the box. I toy with the ribbons and run my fingers along the lace designs. I feel the texture of the embossed logo and I think about how those truffles would have tasted. Maybe if I stay here and pray hard enough, the next time I open the box I’ll be greeted by the strong scent of fresh cocoa.

For some reason, the scent finds me anyways. I open the box, but it’s still barren inside.

I notice my hands as I put the lid back onto the box. They’re darkly stained. The tips of my fingers are coated in powdered sugar and thick brown melt. I touch my index to my tongue. For a split second, I consider jamming it into the back of my throat. I know where my chocolates are, and I want them back.

Instead, I wipe my fingers clean with a handkerchief. Then, I tack the dirtied handkerchief onto my wall. If I can’t get my chocolates back, I can at least remember that I once had them.

Perhaps, if the stars align, I will buy another box. I’ll tape the lid closed, and I’ll keep my chocolates forever.

…Forever.

Forever, forever, forever.

What’s the use in forever? Chocolates aren’t meant to be eternal. Neither are we. Chocolates are meant to be enjoyed, consumed, digested. So are we.

I’m glad I’ve eaten my chocolates. Tomorrow, I’ll have another short-lived pleasure. Then the day after that, and the day after, until I’m all done with the quick little adventure of being alive.

I give my velveteen box one last gentle touch, then I place it on my nightstand and settle into bed.

Thank god I found my chocolates.

[lgcjino]

it’s fascinating, almost perplexing how quiet his apartment was.

the silence was almost palpable, aside from the gentle pitter patter of meong meong’s paws against the wood, and the muffled gurgling of moo’s tank, the rest of the day’s noise seemed nonexistent in his apartment. for a day that always seemed to move by abnormally fast to the next working day ; today, for some reason, today goes by painstakingly slow — what was so different on this normal sunday that made time appear like it was standing still? 

( deep down, jino knows : anticipation is like watching a boiling pot, the more he awaits it, the slower it comes — and yes, the excitement for these blondies that minseo had promised far outweighed any other thing to come this week )

within the hour, he’s switched on a playlist on his television to muffle the quiet, adding a rhythmic commotion to the static helped. fiddling with his hands did too: first it had been a load of laundry; shortly after, it was completing the lego milk way art set he had gotten for christmas from his parents; and then another load of laundry because somehow there were far too many hours in the day between now and later. 

if anything, he had been waiting for her text before he had decided to dispose of the empty lego box and it’s clutter ; thinking that she had yet to be on her way, he had the box in hand, thinking to leave it at his front door to bring down to the waste management when he sees minseo at his front door.  

“ah,” he glances at what she had brought, almost greedily welcoming them as he lets her into his apartment. “and i was wondering where you might have been — you made a pitstop.” 

jino laughs, counting in his head a one, two, thre — before meong meong comes bounding down the hall, tongue out, tail wagging at the sight of minseo. “she’s been waiting all day for you.” a silent she wasn’t the only one runs through his thoughts before he side steps the girlhood reunion to bring what minseo had given him to the kitchen, excited at the possibility of a sweet treat after months of dieting for his role.

setting the supplies onto his counter, he’s already eagerly digging through the tote. “let’s see what we have here: eggs, milk, cocoa powder?” he furrows his brows, glancing at her rather comically, “oh, we’re doing it from scratch? we could have done the box method.” 

almond chocolate

Anyone that knew Minseo was fully aware of how she loved any reason to celebrate absolutely anything. In fact, the silliest of holidays the more fun it was to celebrate for her. Valentine's Day had always been about celebrating her friendships rather lamenting about how single she had always been. However, her group's comeback had taken priority that the day ended like any other day for her. She was taken aback by @lgcjino asking her if she had made any of her chocolate confections, but he knew her better than she would give him credit for at this rate.

His questioning leads them down the topic of brownies, particularly the type with a cookie layer and a promise to bake it with him. She was determined to be more present as a friend and cease any free time she could capitalize on when the opportunity struck. Nowadays, she wasn't the only one busy and her friend group was being pulled in different directions. She shows up at his front door, holding the cookie dough log like a baby in her arms. It was precious cargo after all.

A bright smile forms when he opens the door despite her not ringing the doorbell. She didn't want to rile up Meong Meong and disturb the neighbors. "On my way here, I got the idea of baking puppy treats and got distracted..." Minseo explains, handing off the tote bag full of the ingredients she purchased and the cookie dough log to him. She removes her boots, setting them neatly beside the wall to keep them out of the way. "Is she sleeping? It's quiet..."

[ar1mas]

i finally found out that tumblr does in fact have a tag limit. i wont be changing the tags i already got, so i will go on here, even if thats against the instructions

a screw

a pencil sharpener

nail clippers

scissors (the hair ones)

a weird bracelet that i think is not actually a bracelet but the thing they put on cables to hold them together

a savety pin

and a bunch of fucking dirt

i dont care much for cleaning. and i might have adhd.

reblog and put in the tags whats on your desk right now

[channel4sims-cc]

TS4: Japanese Grocery and Food Items

Sul sul, Simmers ^^

It's been a few days I don't post because I was busy creating this huge set :)

I have a japanese family on my game, and they run a restaurant. So I was like "I have to create a few food items for them".

I ended up creating 42 items XD

This set comes with:

- Bamboo mat (to make sushi), bean sprout package, biscuit box, boiled egg bowl, bonito flakes bowl, bread scrumbs package, bread package, butter, candy package, cocoa powder, coffee bag, cup noodles, dashi soup stock, dried wakame, empty bowls, ginger, handmade noodles pack, honey bottle, ice cream pot, mayonnaise bottle, meat tray (beef, pork, fish, oyster, shrimp and chicken), mentsuyu, milk box, miso, narutomaki package, noodles pack, rice package, rice vinegar, sake bottles, seaweed bowl, seaweed package, sesame seed package, shichimi togarishi seasoning, sugar package, sushi tray, table salt, tofu, tomato sauce, wasabi, water bottle.

As expected all items are japanese, and some have more than one swatch.

Everything is decorative and base game compatible.

Some items are a little high poly, like the boiled egg bowl and the ginger. Test them in your game and see if they will make it run slow. But I don't think there will be any problems though :)

To find them on buy mode, just type "channel4sims - japanese" and they will show up :)

Read the download instruction on the post :)

Since this is a huge set and took me infinite hours to make, it’s an early access on Patreon. But don’t worry, it will be free in a few days :)

I hope you'll enjoy it a lot! I had a lot of fun creating this set :)

Happy Simming ^^

*-* DOWNLOAD (Patreon early access/free on March 31, 2022) *-*

[nonagesimus]

Birthday Prompt 4 - #alfredcritical

Prompted by @dickgraysonwayne

Alfred was used to finding people in his kitchen in the middle of the night.

Bruce, always, though he did tend to take pride in nights he managed to not wake Alfred up. Dick, from the moment he’d come to live in the manor. Difficult to miss, because the boy could never sit still even when he was eating a midnight snack. Jason had been difficult to catch, admittedly, but eventually had gotten to the stage where he’d put on tea for the both of them and wait for Alfred to show up. Tim barely spoke when he was caught, but always seemed quietly happy to see him. Damian had started bringing a sketchbook with him, turning the lights on properly so he could sketch while he ate. Even with the gaps, the times where some of them hadn’t been home, whether by refusal or by tragedy, Alfred clung to it.

He didn’t expect, when he came into the kitchen closing on three in the morning, to see Stephanie Brown.

It wasn’t that she never stayed at the manor, but she was generally shameless about taking food from the pantry before she went to bed so she didn’t even have to leave her room. It didn’t even look like she was eating anything, curled in the corner of the window seat by the small dining table. She just had a mug in her hand. There was a box of Swiss Miss instant hot cocoa sitting on the bench beside the kettle.

He held back a disapproving huff, and simply said, “You could have asked and I would have made you some.”

“I like the powdered stuff,” she said, voice croaky. “It tastes like childhood.”

He made an acknowledging noise. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah.” She swept a hand back through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “I’m good.”

She kept watching him as he moved around the kitchen. Elbows braced on the table, both hands wrapped around her mug. There was something calculating about her expression, but that wasn’t something Alfred was unused to. He’d always found it best to wait people out. Even when she started taking purposefully loud slurps of her drink. The mug emptied before he broke, and she put it back on the table a little louder than was necessary.

“Did you ever think,” she said, finally, “That Bruce was just full of shit?”

“Language,” he said sharply, before softening his voice to continue, “You’ll have to specify what you mean.”

“While watching my language?” she drawled. “Big ask.” Her fingers drummed on the table. “Just the whole. Bat thing.”

He gave her a searching look. “Of course,” he said. “When he first came up with the idea, I thought it sounded ridiculous.”

Her mouth quirked a little. “So, what convinced you?”

“I saw the good he could do,” Alfred said, walking over, and pulling out a chair opposite her. “And I saw the good it did him.”

“You mean he used to be worse?”

He gave her a censuring glance, but didn’t comment. “Master Bruce has always been at his best when he has something important to focus on,” he said. “He doesn’t do well if he’s aimless.”

“I don’t believe he’s ever been aimless,” Stephanie said.

“At times,” Alfred said. “Not many.”

“But he really sold you on it, huh,” she said.

“I would like it better if he’d chosen a safer path,” he confessed. “But the choice isn’t mine.”

“Right,” she said. “Makes sense.”

“What brought all this up?” he asked.

“I’ve just been thinking about how it started lately,” she said. “With Damian leaving, and Tim being Robin again. Feels weird looking back.”

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

“We were kids.” Her voice was soft. A line of tension running through it. “I didn’t even realise at the time, y’know?”

Ah. That was it.

“I never would’ve let Bruce take any of you out if I didn’t trust him with your lives. I believe,” he said solemnly, “With every fiber of my being, that Bruce only has the best of intentions for all of you.”

“Oh sure,” she said. “Intentions. They always lead such fun places.”

“I know how hard he works to protect you all,” he said. “When you let him.”

Her face was unreadable. “When we let him,” she said.

“You hardly make it easy on him,” he pointed out. “Even so, he’s better with you all out there alongside him.”

“Well, if he’s better,” Stephanie muttered, and he gave her a stern look.

“Are you trying to imply something?”

“Of course not.”

She pushed herself out of the window seat, picked up her mug and rounded the table to get back to the bench. Busied herself washing her mug out. Alfred stood, but just watched as she left it on the drying rack, and turned to head out into the hall.

“Ignore me, Alfred,” she said, on her way out. “I’m just thinking too much.”