#baking golden ratio

[neatestshapes]

Cranberry Island Cookie

Crunchy, creamy corruption in these cranberry, oatmeal, rum, white chocolate cookie recipe Further down, I share my food memory. First, have at the recipe. Neatest Shapes recipe card INGREDIENTS ImperialMetricIngredient1 c227 gunsalted butter, softened to room temperature2 c566 gwhite sugar1 tbsp14 gmolasses3 tbsp140 g2 large eggs2 tsp11 grum (or rum extract)1 c85 gcoconut, shredded or…

[el-bender]

[yandere-romanticaa]

An idea that I really like is Ratio falling for someone who is his complete and total opposite in every way imaginable.

He is the kind of person that operates on pure cold logic and facts. He believes in what he sees in front of him with his own two eyes and yes, while it may be fascinating, perhaps even a little entertaining, to philosophize about various unimaginable concepts they are all indeed just that.

Concepts. Ideas. Things made up from the bottom of the bored human psyche.

Veritas Ratio is a man who is able to grasp many, dare he say, possibly every concept he has ever encountered. He loves a challenge but hardly anything is challenging to him because he is such a genius. He devours books that are over a thousand pages long, the most complicated equations of any science are finished by his hand with such ease that many people might mistake him for a machine rather than a man of flesh and blood.

That's what makes it so fun to see him fall for an airhead. A person who probably doesn't care, or doesn't have the mental capacity to care about such things. This person would rather spend their days dallying away, picking flowers, baking, just doing things that are so mundane and plain (to him). If they do decide to read, it is some trashy romance model, maybe even just straight up written porn if they're just that shameless.

And this is the person who has Ratio grabbing his head in frustration.

He's shaking with anger in his room, golden eyes wobbly as he watches you walk up and down the space ship. You got lost, again. How much of an imbecile are you? Do you truly need someone to guide you through everything? With a huff, the scientist grabs his head made of plaster and makes his exist. He puts the mask on and in no time finds you, all lost in the hallways. You hear his upcoming footsteps before you see him and once you turn around, you are greeted with that bizarre mask you've grown so accustomed to.

You greet the man cheerfully, to which he just huffs. With his arms crossed, Ratio gives you a long and detailed lesson on how you ought to be more careful and aware of your surroundings, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. You are not a child and should stop acting like one.

Tears swell in your eyes but none are shed as the two of you turn back, him being a few steps ahead of you. Two pairs of footprints sound incredibly loud in this long and dark corridor. Veritas hears you quietly weeping and he feels the slight inkling of guilt pulling his heartstrings.

... Perhaps he was a smidge too harsh with you.

You are a clueless creature, sure. But maybe, he sometimes reveled in that fact. It was wrong and he would never admit it out loud but his heart whispered it clearly to him - you like this.

Veritas watched you carefully through the reflection of the window, the plaster head concealing the expression on his face. With your lips in a full pout and eyes watery like fresh morning dew, he couldn't help but to be just slightly charmed.

He scoffed to himself as he pressed onwards. He figured he had better standards for himself but that was not the case, clearly.

And just like that, he had escorted you back to your room. He could hear you mumble out a quiet thank you, which he acknowledged with a polite nod with his head.

He's not that cruel. Or rude for that matter!

With the situation now swiftly dealt with, Ratio figured it was high time he went back to his studies. He has already wasted far too much precious time on this, he isn't even sure when he'll finish that -

His train of thought is broken when he feels a pair of arms gently embrace him from behind, the warmth welcoming and dare he say sweet.

Veritas stilled, his body like the statue which some saw him to be. You still could not see his face but his anger could still be felt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he spat at you, his tone cold but venomous.

He felt your face being pressed against his broad back, fat tears caking his fine clothing. Just as he was about to pry your hands off him, he heard you finally speak:

"Thank you for helping me. Really..."

Your tone was soft and remorseful. You did not want to disturb him but despite that, you did just that. He was willing to accept your apology and have this situation be over with but what you said next simply knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"You see, I... I wasn't sure how I could get your attention. I just wanted you to notice me, to talk to me..."

.... Goodness.

He was used to people trying to get his attention but to act like such a pathetic damsel in distress was new. He had to give you credit for your creativity, at the very least.

"I want to be your friend. I also want you to teach me all sorts of things-"

Ratio stopped listening to you mid sentence, his mind running hundreds of laps in thought. Perhaps you weren't the idiot he saw you as. Your little ploy worked, clearly. And if he took you under his wing, who knew what would become of you.

He could turn you into a diamond with his own two hands.

It was embarrassing just how giddy the thought made him.

The shadows of curiosity and some other emotions took over his mind as he analyzed the situation. There really was no harm in taking you all for himself.

Besides, if you were capable of this deceitful plan, who knew what else you could do?

He was eager to find out.

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[redwinesupernova]

“im worried my friends dont like me as much as much as i like them” L + ratio + 3 cups of lukewarm water + 4 1/2 tsp instant yeast (2 packets) + 6 cups all purpose flour + 1 tbsp salt + any filling of your choice + mix water, yeast, and any possible filling in large mixing bowl + mix flour and salt in separate bowl + dump flour mixture into yeast mixture and stir with a wooden spoon or spatula + cover bowl with dry towel and let it rise for an hour or until it’s doubled in size + after first prove use spatula to loosen dough from the bowl + cover hands in flour and place dough on parchment paper + put a dry kitchen towel on top of dough and let prove for 30 more minutes + preheat oven to 450 F and place dutch oven (with lid on) inside while it preheats + remove pot from oven, take the lid off, and use the corners of parchment paper to place dough in the pot + put the lid on + bake for 35 minutes with the lid on + take the lid off and keep it in for 20-25 more minutes/until it’s golden brown + you have warm bread now. i love you.

[najia-cooks]

Lemon balm shortbread cookies

Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), a commonly foraged plant in the mint family, gives a lightly herbacious, bright lemon flavor to these shortbread cookies. They have a classic, crisp, sandy shortbread texture; optional poppy seeds add crunch and a mild nutty flavor. The lemon balm and poppy seeds may be swapped out for any combination of herbs, spices, or citrus zest that your heart desires.

These cookies are subtly sweet and very dunkable, making them perfect companions to a cup of tea or coffee.

Recipe under the cut!

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Lemon balm has square stems and opposite leaves (two leaves per node on opposite sides of the stem). Leaves are simple (one leaf blade with no leaflets); ovate and slightly heart-shaped, with scalloped edges; slightly glossy; thin, soft, and hairy; and deeply veined. They are emerald green on the top, and a lighter greyish green on the underside. They have a lemony scent and an oily texture when crushed. Stems and petioles (leaf stalks) are covered in small standing hairs.

Ingredients:

120g (1/2 cup + 1 Tbsp) salted non-dairy margarine, softened

60g (1/3 cup) caster or granulated sugar

180g (1 1/2 cups) AP flour

1/4 cup (8.5g) minced lemon balm

1 tsp poppy seeds (optional)

Like most traditional shortbread, this recipe follows a 1:2:3 ratio of sugar:butter:flour (by weight). Any herbs, spices, citrus zest, etc. of your choosing may be added to that base.

You could replace the caster sugar with powdered sugar if you want a melt-in-your-mouth texture, rather than a typical crumbly shortbread texture.

Instructions:

Cream margarine with an electric beater for 30 seconds, until it has a whipped texture. Add lemon balm and sugar and beat for another 3 minutes or so, until a couple shades lighter in color (this means that you have incorporated enough air).

Add the flour and mix well with a wooden spoon; then press with your hands to form into a ball.

Roll the dough out into a cylinder. You can make the cylinder more regular by placing it on a piece of wax or parchment paper, then folding the parchment paper over; use a ruler or the flat of a knife to force the cylinder of dough back into the folded edge of the paper.

Wrap the dough by twisting the ends of the parchment paper around, like a candy wrapper. Chill the dough for at least an hour, to keep the cookies from spreading in the oven by allowing the flour to absorb liquid.

Using a sharp paring knife, cut the cylinder of dough into slices about 1/4" thick. Place on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, about 1/2" apart.

Bake at 350 °F (180 °C), in the top third of your oven, for 8 to 10 minutes. For chewier cookies, bake just until the center of the top and bottom of the cookie is no longer wet-looking; for crisper ones, bake until the edges are just starting to turn a light golden color.

[joltning]

here’s idiosyncratic/non portmanteau names for every ship done on rarepair week!(Not including the big ass polyship charts I don’t wanna be here forever.) if I missed you or you want another just ask

feel free to add or remove the ‘shipping’ after tag from these, it’s just to make them more clear. oh and if you’d like explanations just ask

sherry/ohio: sourberry

bitters/matthews: sunflowershipping

bitters/palomo: sunsetshipping

jensen/smith: licoriceshipping

bitters/smith: molten metal

ltsquad: seasonsshipping

bitters/volleyball: hibiscusshipping

ghanoush/mccallister: radioactiveshipping

jones/miller: flourrope

red zealot/blue zealot: from concentrate

ghanoush/mccallister/rebmedic: ultravioletshipping

kimball/dylan: headliners

hutch/wynn: blind judgement

georgia/utah: bubblejet

ct/south/girlie: back to backstabbers

maine/wyoming: pale indifference

carolina/ohio: analogous antithesis

blue fed/randy: festivalshipping. i mean you could also just call them funnelcake

carolina/kai: wallfighter

grey/south: psych and sike

grey/south/dylan: wiped record

south/kai: mardigrasshipping

rebmedic/volleyball: double dose

one/phase: prime integer

kimball/carolina: apex authority

grey/carolina: speedy recovery

jensen/volleyball: runner up

tex/sheila: Gadsdenshipping

chrovos/huggins: quantum gleam

dylan/carolina: insiders info

jensen/simmons: beetrootshipping

doc/donut: sugar pills

sleeves/demo: well I think they already called it iron and smoke but hm…brawnburst?

north/wyoming: sniper duel

locus/lopez: wild misdirection

church/temple: phantom chills

tucker/donut: sugar spike

delta/epsilon: ROM hack

carolina/york/tucker: beach day every day

tucker/lopez: handymanshipping

locus/siris: grapeshipping

donut/lopez/caboose: cobblershipping

kimball/felix: color negative

lopez/caboose: loading time

tucker/north: parental bond

wash/caboose: bullet train

one/danyell: (didn’t know if to separate this one from one/phase but uhh) Golden ratio

caboose/donut: come on. i can’t outdo pastry train

wash/felix: knife play

fake ct/tucker: high and dry

donut/north/south: twin braid

york/tucker: class clown

east/one (again didn’t know but um.) singular solution

sheila/cherry: sweet ride

tex/grey: call me crazy

simmons/doc: middle ground

sharkface/maine: brute-y and the beast

church/north: standard deviation

girlie/sheila: kiss goodnight

felix/jaunes mom: appletreeshipping

tex/omega: anger changer

tucker/grif: incompletely complementary

felix/north: heaven’s favorite angel

locus/wash: farawayshipping

grif/wash: roadkill

caboose/tex: heavy swing

temple/tucker: cryoblade

lopez/locus/donut: nature’s blessing

tucker/wash/donut: heavy duty spin

kimball/filss: revolutionary technology

carolina/kai/479er: flying by wire

jensen/palomo/volleyball: nerd’s tossup

florida/maine: hide and seek

florida/sarge/wyoming: usashipping (duh)

wash/grif/caboose: low speed chase

jensen/dos.0: iron giant shipping

wash/felix/locus: hook line and sinker

wash/sigma: crash and burn

sleeves/demo man/girlie: bloodbath

florida/vic: chillpillshipping

donut/felix: blood sugar

wash/donut: fresh batch

bitters/grif: solar flare

tucker/kimball: sponsored faith

donut/doc/kai: shotsshipping

wash/epsilon: recollectionshipping

texsis: yellowjacketshipping

locus/grif/simmons: mapleleafshipping

wash/tex: eclipseshipping

tucker/palomo: tsunamishipping

donut/lopez: easy bake oven

sarge/doyle: tyrannical bloodshed

felix/tucker: two of swords

church/caboose: engineshipping

[fiddles-ifs]

drinks i can do. full recipes under the cut

FIDDLES' MEZCAL OLD FASHIONED

2 oz mezcal (i like El Silencio Espadin)

1 bar spoon of agave syrup (mix .25:1 ratio of agave and hot water -- stir until pourable)

4 dashes orange bitters

2 dashes Aztec chocolate bitters

2 dashes Angosturra bitters

1 pinch salt

Stir over ice

Peel and express an orange peel

PUMPKIN JACK

1 oz Case One rum (only made in Maryland -- a similar aged rum will do, but Case One has a butterscotch-y taste that lends itself well to dessert drinks)

.5 oz Amaretto of choice (i prefer Disaronno)

2 oz fresh poured espresso

Top with hot water

Float pumpkin whipped cream (cook down one can of 1:1:2 can of pumpkin puree:granulated sugar:water until thickened. Strain through a chamois or cheesecloth. Add pumpkin syrup 1:2 parts heavy whipping cream and shake until pourable consistency)

Grate fresh nutmeg

Served in an Irish coffee or cone glass.

DRUMS OF AUTUMN

1.5 oz Hennessey VS

.5 oz Cherry Heering

.5 oz Drambuie liqueur

1 oz St. George spiced pear liqueur

Stir over ice

Garnish with Luxardo cherry and dehydrated orange peel

Served in a double rocks glass

DEWAR'S DECIBEL

1.5 oz Dewar's scotch

.5 hazelnut syrup

1 oz velvet falernum

.25 lemon juice

Shake and dump into tall Collins glass

Top with soda water

Garnish with dehydrated lemon and edible flowers

GOLDEN HOUR

1.5 oz McClintock Forager gin (also only made in Maryland. Wild foraged gin preferred)

1 oz sage tincture (add 1/4 quart/.25 liters fresh sage to container. cover with vodka or neutral grain spirit. Let steep for 24 hours, then strain through chamois or cheesecloth)

.5 oz blanc vermouth

2 dashes cardamom bitters

1 dash lemon bitters

Served in a martini or coup glass

Garnish with lemon peel and edible flowers

LAST DAY OF SUMMER

This is a difficult cocktail because it requires a dehydrator (or an oven set to a very low temperature, and a few extra steps. First: make dehydrated brown sugar pineapples.

Either cut pineapples into wheels, or remove pineapple wheels from cans. Coat with brown sugar, then arrange onto a baking sheet (if you're dehydrating in an oven, place another baking sheet underneath). Place in dehydrator or oven set to the lowest setting and dehydrate. The brown sugar will turn syrupy and thick. Reserve pineapple brown sugar syrup.)

.75 oz bourbon

.5 oz lemon juice

.5 oz Ancho Reyes chili liqueur

.75 pineapple brown sugar

Shake and dump into double rocks glass

Garnish with dehydrated pineapple

[oekaki-chan]

composition advice🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 ppl say golden ratio this rule of threes that but i either dont understand it or just really never see it in most pieces i fawn over 😭 it makes starting and making a piece so intimidating tho 💀💀 your pieces always come out like a fresh home baked pie so pleeeease do spill if u know anything on this topic ahh

ASDKFHSDJKHFD Not gonna lie I personally think technical stuff like that will hinder you from exploring more possibilities of your art because you'll obsess too much about whether your art creates the golden ratio or not, and in the end people won't even notice it 😭

I remember I tried to incorporate the golden ratio into my art back then and it resulted in the most boring piece I've ever drawn, perhaps I just didn't know how the golden ratio works but I honestly think dwelling with technical stuff like that isn't really worth the effort.

My rule of thumb when compositing my art is just separating the area of focus into dark area and light area

Like, maybe I unconsciously follow the golden ratio or the rule of thirds in the composition, but the only thing I keep in mind when creating some composition is just "if the light area is the main focus, then everything in the dark area must be less detailed, if the dark area is the main focus, then everything in the light area must be less detailed", and there should only be one dark area and one light area in one artwork.

And if the art isn't scenic (is that the right word 😂 ?), I think I like making things composed slightly diagonally to make it look a bit dynamic!

There are many aspects that should be kept in mind when composing and I think the easiest way to do it is by separating the art into two different areas because it works all the time! But that doesn't mean it's the only way to compose your artwork, certain composition factors (including angle, size, shape, etc) can give different impressions and it's A LOT of things to unpack 🥲

I hope it helps Anon and thank you very much 😊!

[kvomi]

꒰ ˙ᵕ˙ ﹑𝐚𝐝𝐢'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 ! event requests are open. inbox: 0/10.

ah, november. how wonderful a month it is.

a late autumn’s breeze tugs at the fabric of your coat, gently urging you down the market’s dirt path. your latest acquisition, a hot drink cradled between your hands, dispels the chills nipping at your skin, leaving both body and soul warm as you peruse the stalls’ offerings. a tote bag filled with previous purchases swings in tandem with your steps, a reminder of just how wonderful a decision it was to visit the yume creator’s market in the first place.

glancing off to the side, a newly set-up stand catches your attention, a pair of silhouettes idly chatting behind their displays. crates of vibrant flowers catch the sun’s golden rays, drops of water glistening like gems against the surface of gorgeous petals and leaves. thoughts of your beloved invade your mind, and you soon find yourself changing course to approach them.

the taller of the duo, a violet-haired man with an egregiously thick book in hand, is the first to notice your presence — though it’s actually his brunette companion who rises to greet you. they gesture eagerly to their goods, a small smile pulling at their lips as they introduce themself and their partner, who nods along in agreement to their words. touched by your desire to purchase a bouquet for yours, they quickly reach for a clipboard and pen.

“so,” they begin, “what would you like today?”

001 ﹑guidelines.

i'll be writing selfship drabbles / ficlets for this event, which you can expect to be somewhere around 500 to 1,000 words long. while i'll do my best to complete any requests as quickly as possible, university may slow me down.

when submitting a request, please include as much detail as you possibly can about your selfship! dynamics, ship memes, picrews — anything works!

i won't be accepting any other selfship requests involving dr. ratio, as he's my "main" selfship for the event. my other f/o's are fair game, however, both for requesting your own selfships or asking about mine!

as i'm not yet fully caught up with penacony's / natlan's storylines, any writing i do for their casts may be ooc. i apologize for this in advance!

002 ﹑choose a centerpiece.

red rose: symbols of romance, commitment, and undying love. uncontestable in their popularity, different quantities of these flowers harbor their own hidden meanings. ↪ ꒰ baking together꒱

white yarrow: symbols of courage, restoration, and adoration. named after the greek hero achillies, they possess the ability to cure several maladies and stop bleeding. ↪ ꒰ lazy mornings ꒱

gardenia: symbols of harmony, affection, and rebirth. having represented secret love within the victorian era, they're still commonly used to express feelings for crushes. ↪ ꒰ fall picnics ꒱

honeysuckle: symbols of happiness, devotion, and protection. you recall learning of their medicinal properties while examining them, fingertips gliding over curled petals. ↪ ꒰ snowball fights ꒱

white peony: symbols of romance, happiness, and prosperity. a long, long time ago, you'd sit cross-legged before a tv screen, decorating block houses with tall lilac buds. ↪ ꒰ ice skating ꒱

pink hyacinth: symbols of rebirth, playfulness, and all-permeating love. beautiful baby pink buds gather on lush green stems, a gorgeous display their of everlasting unity. ↪ ꒰ huddling for warmth ꒱

write-in: decisiveness doesn't have to be a bad thing. there's no shame in striving to achieve an outcome you're aiming for, after all, so just go ahead and give it your all. ↪ ꒰ create your own prompt ꒱

003 ﹑choose some wrapping paper.

clear cellophane: simple, but classic, and absolutely perfect for all the minimalists out there. red hearts line the edges, reminding you of the flowers sold in grocery stores. ↪ ꒰ canon compliant ꒱

translucent cellophane: lacking any printed designs, the varying colors of these semi-opaque sheets provide their own spin on the classic. layer sheets to create gradients. ↪ ꒰ modern au ꒱

embroidered tulle: embellished with all kinds of cute yarn flowers, this wrapping paper is sure to bring joy to all who see it. you recall favoring such styles during your youth. ↪ ꒰ university au ꒱

printed paper: endless patterns mean endless possibilities, a thought terrifying to some. they come with mini notecards, perfect for expressing any urgent sentiments. ↪ ꒰ mutual pining ꒱

004 ﹑submit your order.

"finally," adi calls out, piercing through peaceful silence as they place their clipboard before you, pointing at an empty section near the bottom of your order form, "i'll just need you to write the name of the special someone you'd like to address this bouquet to, as well as confirm everything you've chosen thus far. that is to say, your completed order form should follow this format: ꒰flower꒱ + ꒰wrap꒱ + ꒰f/o꒱."

"you can drop it off in that little 'inbox' besides me once you're finished. we'll also be accepting orders until 11:59 p.m. est on november 18, 2024, so there's no need to worry if you'd still like some time to mull things over."

they pause for a moment, allowing you to process their words before continuing. "regardless of whether or not you decide to place an order, however, i hope that you have a wonderful rest of your—" you interrupt them, then, as they begin to turn away, one final question slipping past your lips. adi regards you with wide eyes.

"huh? buy something for us? are you sure?" you nod your head, and they smile brightly. "that's awfully sweet of you. really, i appreciate it. and, in that case," they trail off, "go ahead and address your order to adtio. i'll know what you mean when i see it."

"now — thank you for stopping by! i hope you have an amazing day! ♡"

[bakingtherapy]

Breakfast with Cordelia #1 Pancakes

Sul Sul, gerbits. We are here today in my bakery, Cordelia’s Cove. I have been going to University, getting married, and other things that have happened to me. But I think I am finally able to re-open Cordelia’s Cove. Right here in Sunny Sulani. The first recipe that we are going to be doing is a very “basic” recipe. One that my mom taught all five of us because she thought it was such an important recipe to learn. And that is pancakes. Nothing more nothing less. Just basic pancakes. The recipe is going to be in the description down below, and that is where you will find all of the measurements. 

Mom swore by this Betty Crocker Pancake recipe because it was so easy, and you could add your flavors to it without messing up the pancake. The base of the recipe only makes about 10 or so pancakes. My mom’s tip for pancakes was to ratio it 1 egg to 1 batch of pancakes. You are going to need to measure out your other ingredients as well. My mom typically used 5 or 6 eggs meaning that she added the eggs at the start. Not making one batch, putting it on the griddle, and repeating this 5 times. 

In a medium-sized bowl, you are going to mix your 1 egg with a wire whisk until it is fluffy. Stir in the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, milk and vegetable oil, all at once. Again if you are making a large batch of pancakes remember to add the appropriate amount of each of the ingredients. Even if it looks weird at the end because sometimes 10 tablespoons of vegetable oil can look weird. But trust me when I say it is not weird.

Heat your griddle or skillet over medium heat, which is about 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

For each pancake, pour slightly less than ¼ cup batter onto the griddle. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until you can see bubbles on the top and the edges are dry. Turn, cook the other side until it is a golden brown, and there you have it, some nice fluffy pancakes.

I was racking my brain for so long about what type of videos I wanted to do, and I finally figured it out, Breakfast with Cordelia was my husband’s idea. So thanks, babe. I hope you enjoy this video if you want to see more simple recipes like this in the future please like and subscribe. 

Show the original author some 💖💖💖 Betty Crocker

Printable version of this recipe: on the blog

Feel free to support me on:

🐥Patreon 🐥 Kofi 🐥 Facebook 🐥 Pinterest 🐥

[allergictoeating]

Vegan Gluten Free Maple Challah

You don't need wheat, eggs, or honey to make this Jewish staple delicious! This vegan and gluten free recipe will be a showstopper at Chanukah, Rosh Hashanah, or French Toast Brunch☺️

This bake turned out a bit denser than I intended, so I recommend starting with only 3 cups of flour blend and adding more as needed. But as long as the texture is right at each stage, it will turn out in the bake!

3 1/2 c. Bob's Red Mill 1:1 Baking Flour

1 1/2 tsp. BRM Xanthan Gum

1 c. BRM Tapioca Flour

2 tsp. Double-Acting Baking Powder

1/4 c. Sugar

4 tsp. Salt

1 1/2 c. Water

8 Tbsp. Olive Oil

4 1/2 Tbsp. BRM Egg Replacement + 3 Tbsp. Water

3/4 c. Maple Syrup

2-4 Tbsp. Maple Syrup (for glaze)

Whisk dry ingredients together

Mix Egg Replacement and Water, let sit for one minute to thicken

In a separate bowl, combine wet ingredients

With a flat rubber spoon, fold together wet and dry ingredients

*If dough is too dry or crumbly, add Olive Oil 1 Tbsp. at a time

*Dough should have consistency of wet play-doh

Chill in airtight container 1-2 hours to soak up moisture

Dust a large, flat surface with flour blend and tapioca flour (3:2 ratio)

Turn dough out onto floured surface, knead until no longer sticky

Divide into 3 equal pieces, roll into cylindrical shapes

Pinch tops of dough strands together, tuck under

Carefully complete a 3-strand braid with the dough, being careful not to pull on the dough

Let rise in a warm, draft-free spot for 45-60 min

Brush with maple syrup

Bake at 350 for 30 min

Rotate 180 degrees, brush again with syrup

Bake at 325 for 15 min or until golden brown

Brush with syrup one more time, let stand 10 min

Enjoy!

[sxnyarostova]

downton downstairs and how they eat their toast:

carson: lightly toasted with a very thin layer of butter on top. look me in the eye and tell me he'd like it done any other way.

mrs hughes: not the biggest fan of toast. prefers scones, but when she absolutely has to eat it, she likes it toasted with jam only. she is eventually influenced by mr carson and puts minimal butter before she slathers it in strawberry jam.

mrs patmore: toast connoisseur; she has to be the one to crisp the bread and will not eat it otherwise. butter and preserves are the way to go. in a modern context she is a marmite lover; not a huge fan of crusts though

thomas: eats it plain with absolutely nothing on it. will put parsley butter if available though (but it never is so the mystery of whether thomas actually puts condiments on his toast remains very much intact). avid marmalade hater.

o'brien: would be gluten-free in a modern context. does not enjoy toast. don't even think about giving her some she will bite your hand off

william: he likes english muffins. if forced to eat toast he nibbles at it until it vaguely resembles an English muffin.

gwen: cuts the crusts off her bread and gets the most bombastic side eye from mrs p. liker of marmalade and heckler of daisy's anti-marmalade stance

anna: does not toast her bread and likes a thin layer of jam, so long as it doesn't overpower that taste that makes bread, well, bread. likes scones more but isn't excessively picky about it. will occasionally pop scrambled eggs onto her toast, and gets mr bates into it.

mr bates: toasts his bread, and puts butter and jam in even quantities. apparently he is a liker of marmalade, but this was only said in response to thomas' denouncement of it at the table. does he actually enjoy it? we'll never know. crust enjoyed. as mentioned above he puts scrambled eggs on his toast every once in a while.

daisy: very particular about how it's done. she wants untoasted bread, lots of butter, and lots of jam, but not too much of either condiment or it'll make her sick. she despises marmalade and would actually cry as a child if someone forced her to eat it. always eats her crusts, and will eat toast as a midnight snack. she's clearly a fan.

ivy: no crusts, no toasting, no butter, and just puts jam. fights with daisy sometimes about their stances on how toast is supposed to be enjoyed. eventually caves and starts toasting it.

alfred: did not inherit his aunt's genes and is a huge fan of bread. he will literally talk to you for hours about baking bread and how much butter is too much butter. will literally not shut up about toast. eats it with what he believes is the golden ratio of butter (it isn't).

jimmy: likes it a little burnt. that's it he has no other preferences

ms baxter: anna got her scrambled egg thing from her. ms baxter is the original inventor of scrambled eggs on toast actually she patented the term

mr molesley: huge toast enjoyer. initially very adamant that it should be eaten with just butter but changes his ways after ms baxter comes into his life <3

[invisible-goats]

Happy New Year the best ratio of ingredients for really easy shortbread is 3 parts flour 2 parts butter 1 part sugar by weight dimple that badboy sprinkle on some more sugar and bake at 150 for 12 minutes or until the edges turn golden

[lichtensteining]

Controversial opinion but s’mores-flavored things suck. In this essay, I will highlight the basic elements of s’mores and how achieving true s’mores-like quality is near impossible.

A s’more is part chocolate, part marshmallow and part graham cracker. This is something everyone can agree on. Even though one may customize their s’more or perhaps use a different ratio of ingredients, there is no arguing the classic recipe.

When examining the ability to transform these ingredients into a different yet similar product, there are ingredients that lend themselves to being integrated better than others. Chocolate is easy to incorporate into other things, being a very versatile ingredient. However, it’s not easy to integrate marshmallow or graham cracker into things, say coffee for example. Marshmallow is too sticky and graham cracker is too gritty or would disintegrate in liquid.

As a solution, some may use artificial flavoring. Unfortunately, this doesn’t come close to recreating a s’mores flavor due to two issues — either they are too subtle and are lost to the chocolate (which is a very demanding flavor), or they taste overly artificial and don’t come anywhere near what a true s’more tastes like.

However, certain foods lend themselves to s’moreization more than others. Baked goods are a great example of this. They can easily incorporate the exact ingredients, or at least an approximation. For example, in s’mores bars, the use of a cookie base is the a tongue-in-cheek rendition of the graham cracker element. We can see the pitfalls of this substitute — it lacks the crunch that complements the melty chocolate and the sticky marshmallow and it doesn’t exactly mirror the subtle, delicately sweet flavor of a graham cracker that offsets the cloying marshmallow and milk chocolate combination.

Finally, you cannot completely recreate an experience, and therein lies the largest issue with smoreization of products. Part of the appeal of a s’more is the process in which it is made. Tending carefully to your marshmallow so that it may achieve peak golden caramelization is not something that can be recreated in a food lab. Neither can you recreate the moment where the marshmallow melts the chocolate while still maintains a gooey consistency to keep the whole sandwich together. But at the heart of American society’s desire for s’more-flavored food items is nostalgia. People associate summer with s’mores, and s’mores with feelings of happiness and familial or platonic comfort. By trying to synthesize a product that attempts to reflect these feelings of nostalgia without the accompanying environment, it falls just short of our expectations. The resulting product ends up mostly tasting of chocolate devoid of any note of ephemeral joy once relished with sticky fingers.

In conclusion, trying to recreate s’mores in any other context of a true s’more is a fool’s errand. We as a society need to move forward, which means leaving s’mores for nights beside the campfire, not for culinary abominations that do not adequately embody s’mores.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image shows small cookies with cracked surfaces in a silver tin with pointed lid embossed with geometric designs; second image shows the same cookies on an engraved silver tray with a tea glass in the background. End ID]

غُريبة لبهلة / Ghriba l'behla (Moroccan shortbread cookies)

Ghriba l'behla (literally, "strange silly"), a popular teatime cookie, are perhaps so named because of the distinctive cracks that form on the surface of the cookies as they rise. Cookies without these distinctive cracks may be ghriba, but they are not ghriba l'behla. The melt-in-your-mouth, crumbly texture of ghriba is traditionally achieved with a 4 : 1 : 1 ratio of flour : sugar : oil.

Ghriba l'behla are commonly made with a specialized mold that gives them a concave bottom, thins them out around the edges, and causes them to crack more dramatically—the underside of a Dutch pancake pan or a mini idli tray would work for this purpose, but ghriba may also be made with a flat cookie sheet.

Though they may be made plain, ghriba are often flavored with toasted sesame, cinnamon, almonds, orange blossom water, and even lemon or orange zest. This recipe is for sesame-cinnamon ghriba, but you may also press an almond into the center of each cookie, coat them in powdered sugar, or add a couple teaspoons of orange blossom water or brine from a jar of Moroccan preserved lemons.

Recipe under the cut!

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Ingredients:

About 3 cups (360 - 390g) all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp fresh yeast (optional)

1/2 cup (70g) hulled sesame seeds, divided

1/2 cup (118mL) vegetable oil

1/2 cup vegan margarine or shortening, melted

3/4 cup (150 grams) vegetarian granulated sugar

Pinch of salt

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tsp baking powder

Instructions:

1. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast sesame seeds until they are fragrant and a shade darker. Coarsely grind about half of the toasted sesame seeds in a mortar and pestle or spice mill. Set aside.

2. Melt margarine or shortening in a microwave or on the stovetop. Add sugar and stir to dissolve.

3. Combine margarine mixture and all other ingredients except for four in a large mixing bowl. Add flour a little at a time to make a dry, crumbly mixture that doesn't quite hold together when pressed; you may need more than 3 cups.

4. Knead the dough by hand, or use a stand mixer with the paddle attachment on its lowest setting, for 20 minutes. The dough should appear crumbly, like damp sand, but should now pack into a ball easily when pressed. Add more flour or oil if necessary to achieve this texture, kneading for another few minutes to incorporate.

5. Preheat your oven to 320 °F (160 °C) with the rack in its lowest position. Form the ghriba dough into balls about 3/4” (2cm) in width, packing them together with both hands and then flattening them silghtly between your palms. The edges of the dough should not crack or separate.

If you have a ghriba mold, gently press each ball of dough down over a bump on the mold, pressing down and thinning out the edges slightly to ensure a dramatic, concave bottom.

If you don't have a ghriba mold, place the ghriba on a baking sheet prepared with parchment paper. Make sure to separate them by about an inch, because they will rise slightly.

6. Turn on the broiler and broil the ghriba in the lower rack of your oven for 2-5 minutes, until cracks begin to appear on the surface.

7. Turn the broiler off and move the ghriba to the upper third of the oven. Continue to bake at 320 °F for 3-5 minutes, until very lightly golden brown and not quite firm to the touch.

8. Allow the ghriba to cool for 2 minutes, then transfer them to a wire cooling rack and allow to cool completely. Store in an airtight container.