#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]

[rhyrhy]

Kiss the chef

[warnings]: chef! Abby, unserious, suggestive mentions, headcannons, wc 1k , part 2

Chef! Abby’s! first viral video was around a year ago. A simple clip of her making cacio e pepe. The video was beautifully shot, a warm coloring complementing the glossy dish. but what really got everyone’s attention?

The way her forearms tensed while she cracked fresh pepper. Veins showing themselves along her freckled skin. Comments often reading:

@ “ok but how do i get the pasta to look this good?”

@ “i have something to say but i want to go to college”

@ “ma’am, i’m trying to focus but your ARMS?????😣”

@ “looks SO good💕..and the food i guess”

Chef Abby! had always loved cooking, growing up in a kitchen with her dad, who ran The Cordova, one of downtown Washington’s finest restaurants. But she liked the no pressure vibe of TikTok—just her and her food. She decided she wouldn’t show her face much, if at all. Letting the small flex of her muscles when she kneaded dough into a floured surface be the main visual. While comments? They were only half focused on what she was making.

Naturally, her account gained traction. No face, no voice—just hands, muscles, and literal food porn. Every video felt like a Sunday afternoon in a kitchen. @buffandbasil, now sat at 2.5 million followers.

Chef Abby! tried to ignore the thirst in her comments. How could she? It was honestly a small ego boost, even if it was a bit over the top at times. Like the second pinned video on the top of her page—where all she was doing was making bread.

@ : “knead ME like that.”

@ : “both lips are smiling rn”

@: “need her to bake something in me, respectfully😇“

@: “we need to chill in the comments… *saves video*”

Chef Abby! wasn’t a huge fan of putting her face in her videos. However, the occasional face slip would happen. A quick shot of her golden hair in view or a reflection in a clean pan.

The third and final pinned video? The one sitting at a few million views and a comment section that out-ratioed it?

Her hair draped over a fitted black Henley shirt, the top button undone. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows. And when she reached up for something overhead in a cabinet? A small sliver of her torso—those abs?

Yeah. They lost it.

@ “niagara falls just relocated”

@ “MY CLOTHES, WHERE’D THEY GO!!?!”

@ “her strap drags, for sure. touches the floor.”

@^ “mind you, i would take it.😊”

@ ^^ “y’all are TOO freaked out 💀”

And trust—Chef Abby! loved it. Really. Laying in bed, straight cackling on FaceTime with her best friend Manny, sending him screenshots or full-blown screen sharing. She didn’t reply. Not really. But she absolutely posted a few videos after. No shirt, just her “Kiss the Chef” apron and vibes.

And the one time she did reply?

@: “Do you do weddings?”

@buffandbasil :“Yes, actually.”

Harmless, right? Simple. Straightforward. She had catered weddings before. Large events, alongside her father, but—

@: “As… the bride?”

She saw it exactly three minutes after posting her reply. And in those three minutes, her comment had already tripled in likes. The replies? A war zone.

@ “ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

@ “HELLO???????”

@ “bro air balled.”

@ “ok so u free next saturday or???”

She paid it no mind. Mostly. But sometimes, a few profiles caught her attention. She was human, after all. Chef Abby! had seen your likes. You didn’t know it yet.

For you? It was originally just another cringe or brain rot video being sent by your roommate, Dina. But when you clicked the video of @buffandbasil all laughter halted. Typing back—

You: “Dee, hear me out..😭”

Dina: “Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Lost the plot.”

Chef Abby! considered reciprocating the engagement but saw how many views you usually received on GRWMs and storytimes and decided on a more… exciting approach. Wanting to see if you’d bite.

No aesthetic instrumentals—this time, a voiceover. Her voice, soft, steady Tutorial style.

“So today, we’re making sourdough from scratch. You wanna make sure your starter is active, and then we’re gonna knead it—”

@: “OH SHE TALKS???”

@: “it’s all over the screen ngl 🌊”

@: “asmr videos when?”

@: “great now i have a crush on a faceless chef, thanks.”

@: “I’m ovulating rn please chill 💔💔”

But the only comment she was looking for? Yours.

@ you: “Me next🫦!”

You typed it. And went to bed. She had so many comments—she probably wouldn’t even see it.

But as the sun poured through your curtains the next morning, your stomach flipped. A notification.

Followed by @buffandbasil. 2 hours ago.

Legs swinging the blankets off, then you were sprinting down the hall, launching yourself onto Dina’s bed like a feral animal let loose.

She groaned, blindly swatting at you. “Dude, what the—”

Without another word, you shoved your phone in her face. Dina squinted, blinked a few times, then—loud, cackling.

“Dee. This isn’t a ‘hear me out’ anymore—this is a hold me back.” You said, falling next to her dramatically, smiling.

Dina wheezed, shaking her head. “Nah. You are in the sunken place now, sister.”

[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.”

[amyzworldds]

Title: Sweet Cookie Competition

Joshua and yn spend their day off baking cookies in a playful competition. They take their creations to SEVENTEEN’s dorm, where the members declare the winner. Pairing: Joshua X reader Genre: Fluff

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the cozy living room where yn and Joshua were sprawled out on the couch. It was their rare day off, a sacred break from schedules and chaos, and they’d decided to spend it together doing something fun. Joshua’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he propped himself up on his elbow, grinning down at yn.

“Okay, hear me out, babe,” he said, voice bubbling with excitement. “We bake cookies today. But not just any cookies—we have a competition. You versus me. Winner gets bragging rights and… unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day!”

Yn laughed, sitting up and poking his chest playfully. “Unlimited cuddles? Bold of you to assume I’d want that from the loser. Fine, you’re on, Hong Joshua. Prepare to taste defeat—and my superior cookies.”

Joshua gasped dramatically, clutching his heart. “Oh, it’s war now, huh? My cookies are about to make you fall in love with me all over again, just watch.”

The kitchen soon turned into a battlefield of flour and giggles. Joshua insisted on wearing a frilly apron he found in the drawer, tying it around his waist with an exaggerated twirl. “Look at me, I’m basically a pro baker now,” he declared, striking a pose. Yn rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across their face as they tied their own apron.

They decided on chocolate chip cookies—classic, simple, but with room for creativity. Yn meticulously measured out ingredients, sneaking little glances at Joshua, who was… less precise. He dumped sugar into his bowl with wild abandon, humming SEVENTEEN’s 'Hot' under his breath and doing a little dance with the wooden spoon.

“Are you baking or performing?” Yn teased, flicking a bit of flour at him.

Joshua froze, then smirked. “Both. It’s called multitasking, babe.” He retaliated by dabbing a tiny dot of cookie dough on Yn’s nose, laughing as they scrunched their face in mock outrage.

The kitchen smelled like heaven by the time the cookies were in the oven. While they waited, Joshua pulled yn into a spontaneous slow dance, spinning them around the tiny space to an imaginary melody, his laughter filling the air. “This is the best day off ever,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of yn’s head.

Once the cookies were done, they plated their masterpieces—Joshua’s were chunky and golden, slightly misshapen but oozing charm, while yn’s were perfectly round and crisp, with melty chocolate chips peeking out. “Time for the real test,” Joshua said, clapping his hands. “Let’s take these to the dorm and let the members decide who’s the cookie champion!”

——————————————————————————

At the SEVENTEEN dorm, chaos erupted the second they walked in. Seungkwan immediately snatched a cookie from Joshua's tray, munching loudly. “Oh, hyung, these are good!” he said, but then he grabbed one of yn and his eyes widened. “Wait—wait, no, THESE are insane. yn, teach me your ways!”

Hoshi dove in next, grabbing one from each tray. “Shua hyung's are like… a warm hug. But yn’s? This is like a gourmet hug from a five-star chef.” He dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching his heart.

Mingyu, the resident food expert, took his judging duties seriously, tasting both with a critical eye. “Hyung, yours are solid, man. But yn’s texture? Perfect crisp-to-chewy ratio. Sorry, hyung.”

One by one, the members cast their votes—Woozi, Vernon, Jun, even leader Seungcheol—and the tally was unanimous: yn won. Cheers erupted, and yn did a little victory dance while Joshua stood there, mouth agape, staring at his bandmates.

“You TRAITORS!” Joshua wailed, pointing an accusing finger at them. “I’ve been feeding you my love for YEARS, and this is how you repay me? Betrayed by my own family!” He flopped onto the floor, sprawling out like a starfish in mock despair.

Y/N giggled and crouched beside him, poking his cheek. “Aw, don’t be so dramatic, babe. You still have me—and my winning cookies.”

Joshua peeked up at them with a pout, then broke into a grin. “Fine. But I demand a rematch. And you’re sharing those cuddles anyway, winner or not.” He tugged yn down beside him, wrapping them in a bear hug as the members cooed and teased in the background.

The rest of the day was spent lounging at the dorm, munching on cookies (mostly yn’s), and laughing until their sides hurt. Joshua might’ve lost the competition, but with yn snuggled against him, he felt like the real winner anyway.

[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.

[aventurineswife]

You know what? MORE HALF ANIMALS REQUESTS! Dog!reader x Lion!Kaveh x Owl!Veritas. Because fuck yeah. Extra points if Veritas starts cooing and if Kaveh licks Veritas and chokes on one of his feathers.

A Roar, A Feather, A Heart

Summary: You live with your two partners—Kaveh and Ratio. One evening, playful interactions and a mischievous moment lead to Kaveh choking on one of Ratio's feathers, resulting in laughter, tender care, and shared affection.

Tags: Lion!Kaveh x Dog!Reader x Owl!Ratio, Fluff, Humor, Gentle Teasing, Mild Injury (feather in throat).

Warnings: Mild choking/near injury (Kaveh accidentally chokes on a feather), Light teasing and playful dynamics.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of distant activity from the neighboring quarters. It was late—well into the night, the moon casting a soft glow across the cozy, dimly lit living room. The smell of incense lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of freshly baked bread Kaveh had prepared earlier in the evening. There were some leftover pastries, still warm, and the occasional sound of muffled breathing.

You, a half-animal with the keen senses of a dog, lay curled up on the couch, your soft ears twitching every so often, though you were relaxed, basking in the warmth of the room. Beside you, Kaveh, with his majestic golden mane, sprawled out comfortably. He always had a way of filling the space, his gentle yet powerful presence as unmistakable as his scent, a mix of wood, smoke, and something floral that reminded you of far-off spring meadows. He always managed to make his love for beauty feel tangible, as if his very existence was a masterpiece in itself.

Ratio, the owl-headed genius with violet waves of hair, had just finished his research for the evening and was now perched on his favorite chair—one that seemed far too small for his sharp intellect, but he always claimed it was just right. His gaze scanned over his notes, but he couldn't help but glance at you both now and then, his lips curving slightly in something close to a smile.

"Really, Kaveh," Ratio spoke up, his tone smooth as silk, but with an unmistakable edge of amusement. "Must you always make everything so… extravagant?" He gestured toward the remnants of Kaveh’s earlier creation, the little architectural drawings scattered across the coffee table, even as you laid there, content to listen. Ratio’s sharp mind could never ignore a challenge, even when it wasn’t directly aimed at him. His fingers delicately traced the edge of his glasses, his posture still full of grace as he leaned forward slightly.

Kaveh's sharp eyes flicked over, his lips twitching in a playful grin. He sat up, stretching his long legs and rolling his shoulders before giving Ratio a cheeky look. "What can I say? I believe beauty belongs everywhere—especially when you’re surrounded by such company."

At that, Kaveh’s hand shifted toward Ratio. You could sense his movements, the subtle tug at your heartstrings as he drew near. As if drawn by some invisible force, Kaveh leaned forward to press a kiss to Ratio's temple, the warmth of his breath making Ratio’s skin tingle.

Before Ratio could properly respond with his usual dignified retort, Kaveh’s hand gently brushed his face, fingers lightly catching on a stray feather at Ratio's collar. It was a playful gesture—something Kaveh had come to do when the two were together, a rare but warm form of intimacy that both he and Ratio shared.

Ratio blinked at Kaveh for a moment, a slight surprise registering in his usually composed expression. But then, something unexpected happened. As if caught in the moment, Kaveh let out a playful, flirtatious chuckle and kissed Ratio’s cheek, before playfully licking it—a gesture he knew would make Ratio twitch.

The outcome, however, was not what Kaveh had anticipated. A feather—an elegant and long one—caught in his throat, and suddenly, the lion-man was choking, coughing in an exaggerated manner as his hand instinctively reached to his throat.

“Kaveh!” you barked, concerned, instantly sitting up and running to him.

Kaveh’s eyes watered in surprise as he gasped for air, and for a moment, you thought you might have to jump in to help, but then Ratio’s swift hand reached for Kaveh’s shoulder, holding him still.

“Foolish lion…” Ratio whispered with a quiet but amused coo. “You never learn, do you?” He pressed a hand to Kaveh’s back, giving him a few calming pats. His soft cooing was a bit of an odd comfort, something you found oddly endearing—almost like he was a motherly figure in that moment.

Eventually, Kaveh gasped out a breath, his face flushed, and he wiped his mouth in embarrassment. “I… It was the feathers… they shouldn’t be this… they’re so long!” He managed between breaths, still unable to stop coughing lightly.

Ratio, now fully entertained, leaned back in his seat, fingers stroking his chin. His gaze softened as he observed the two of you. “Perhaps next time, I’ll wear fewer feathers,” he mused, his tone a bit more teasing, before his eyes shifted to you.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Kaveh, who was still recovering, and the way Ratio’s sharp intellect and playful demeanor seemed to complement the lion's free-spirited and occasionally reckless nature. The three of you were an odd match, but somehow, it felt perfect in its own chaotic way.

With the moment passed, Kaveh sat back against the couch, glancing toward you with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, I got a little carried away. You know, Ratio always looks so elegant, and I can’t help but… appreciate him.”

You playfully nudged Kaveh’s shoulder, wagging your tail—a feature you hadn’t even realized had started to sway—at the spontaneous tenderness Kaveh always offered. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Kaveh,” you teased with a soft laugh. "But, seriously, we need to keep the feathers in check next time."

Ratio raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your playful banter. His cool, sharp demeanor didn't deter the warmth that radiated between the three of you. “I suppose I’ll accept that as a lesson,” he said, before standing and offering Kaveh a hand. “Next time, let’s make sure to avoid… unfortunate accidents.” His voice held an unspoken invitation as he helped Kaveh to his feet.

With Kaveh’s arm around your shoulders and Ratio standing just behind you, you felt a quiet sense of comfort. You couldn’t imagine a better evening, one filled with laughter, banter, and the undeniable bond between the three of you. It was a strange, beautiful kind of love—a mixture of intellect, compassion, and all the little things that made your hearts beat just a little faster when you were together.

And so, the night went on, the three of you finding peace in each other’s company—whether it was a thoughtful gesture, a shared laugh, or the gentle reassurance of knowing you were never truly alone.

Even if it involved the occasional feather-related mishap.

[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

[kvomi]

꒰ ˙ᵕ˙ ﹑𝐚𝐝𝐢'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 ! event requests are closed. inbox: 1/10.

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! ♡"

[ghostofasecretary]

Pumpkin's Grief Disaster Cookies

yesterday morning my grandpa died, and i wore as close to all-black as i could to work, and i came home and made cookies without a recipe

they're pumpkin walnut! they're tasty! the yield is about 15 per batch, and they take about 15 minutes to bake at 410F. you'll probably want 2 cookie sheets or an extra large one to minimize the long cooking time, but thankfully these are tasty right out of the oven. housemate reviews: "Oh wow! That is so lovely, actually, I would never have guessed you made these without a plan." "It's so good!" they have a cakey, fluffy, chewy bit with a lightly crunchy bottom edge. you can customize the chewiness to crunch ratio a bit (see the picture at the end of the post for reference), but 410 is my personal favorite. i'm going to put the polished recipe before the cut and my actual recipe development process/personal notes below. i want to note that this was inspired by justine_snacks' pumpkin tiramisu cookie recipe, the short for which i saw in the parking lot after getting home from seeing friends, as well as knowing that you really do not need egg in pumpkin recipes after i made her pumpkin bars with chai caramel and cardamom crumble for thanksgiving. (that is the most extra, labor intensive baking recipe i've ever made, and one of my friends described them as the lembas of sweets and is still working on the leftovers. very complex and tasty.) my cookies are less flavorful than i'm sure the tiramisu ones are, but they're wholesome and light and comforting. i do think a pumpkin spice or maple glaze would be really lovely if you wanted them to be sweeter wet ingredients: - 140g unsweetened pumpkin puree - 175g white granulated sugar - 75g dark brown sugar - 1 stick unsalted butter, lightly softened - 1 stick salted butter, lightly softened - 60g unflavored greek yogurt (if the whey has separated since the last time you opened your container, that's fine, just pour it in and then add some of the normal yogurt till you get to 60g) dry ingredients: - approximately 310g white all purpose flour - 30g walnuts (could definitely use more) - 2 teaspoons baking powder fictitious, untried instructions for how a reasonable person might assemble these ingredients: 1. cream butter, sugar and pumpkin puree, until the butter has separated and no large chunks remain; there should still be visible spots of butter and the consistency should be very liquidy

2. lightly fold in yogurt with stand or hand mixer

3. mix together 200g of flour and 2 teaspoons of baking powder; fold together with a spatula, as the dough will be too sticky for your mixer

4. add 30g walnut and another, i dunno, 100-120g of flour; fold till you get a dense, slightly sticky dough (still easily handled) that tastes like it will be good when baked. it should look something like this:

5. chill batter for 15-20 minutes; preheat oven to 410

6. scoop onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet with an ordinary tablespoon or a large cookie scoop if you have one

7. bake for 14-16 minutes (15 was about right for me, but you might check them earlier). a toothpick or fork inserted into the largest part should come out almost entirely clean and the bottom should be a light golden brown

8. chill on a baking sheet before storing; enjoy hot or cold! the cookies will soften over time, so enjoying them the night of or day after baking is best.

anyways, that's it for Fictional Recipe town, see below for how to actually recreate what i did last night

get home around 4pm and decide to use up the pumpkin puree left over from your thanksgiving baking in something. (thanksgiving baking is also the only reason you have both salted and unsalted butter in your fridge)

dump pumpkin on top of two sticks of unsoftened butter, just straight out of the fridge

put frantically back into jar so you can weigh it, like, at least vaguely. the scale showed exactly 140g but it could be lying because this was A Mess

let butter soften; take out your feelings by slapping it real hard with a spatula

sort 200g chana dal and 150g red lentils on a cookie sheet and preheat the oven to 400, which is probably a baking temperature, who knows, whatever!

add sugar

use hand mixer to cream butter, sugar, and pumpkin together till your liquid only has medium-small clumps of butter instead of huge ones. consider that you could continue mixing until it looks fluffy and nice. refuse

thoroughly wash and strain lentils and soak in a large mason jar

lick the batter off the ~wire whips~

add 200 (actually 205) g flour; stir

then add 30g walnuts and decide that since Justine Snacks' recipe had marscapone, yogurt is probably a good idea. dump the separated whey of your greek yogurt into the bowl along with the walnuts, about 8 grams, and then scoop out more yogurt-y yogurt till you get to 60g

add 2tsp baking powder directly to your disaster; stir

decide it needs more flour

at this point, stop noticing the numbers on your food scale

add, uh. 75g flour? fold

then add 50g flour? maybe 25g? 33?? i did not really take enough note

fold

taste batter; decide it is acceptably edible

start cooking lentils; chill batter till you're done cleaning dishes

nevermind, actually change out of your work clothes and put on your headphones and put soap in your dishes and then line sheet with parchment paper and scoop onto the sheet with a tablespoon and your hands. these are fairly large cookies but i at no point measured the pre-cooked weight of any of my dough balls or the post-cooked weight

set in oven and go bake 7 min at 400

wash dishes

take cookies out at 7 minutes; they are wildly overbaked

set a timer for 3 minutes; bake for 3.5 because you got distracted washing dishes

poke with fork; the cookie will completely fall apart in the center; eat the central goop. salmonella from flour the WHOMST and anyway you already ate it raw

stick back in the oven for another 3 minutes

put lentils in a pot with a tsp of turmeric and some canola oil; start boiling

cookies still look sad after 3 minutes but the edges are getting golden! go for another 2

NOW the fork comes out clean. so, nice crispy edge + clean toothpick after 15.5! however that is so long. let's gradually try, um. 410?

bake for 10 minutes; eat one of the first cookies

take out after 10 minutes; they have a noticeable edge now but the center turns to Destroyed Goop again with a fork

turn lentil heat down slightly and take away some of the scum; realize you still failed to get all the sus lentils out of your batch

feed one of the first batch to your housemate

after another 2 minutes the cookies are STILL GOOP

burn your finger putting them back in the oven; rinse with water

bake for another 2 minutes

...nope, that's still underbaked. 4 me.

1 minute later, well, that was 15 minutes, only 30 seconds less than 400. bottom looks darker. weird

decide that you want a cookie that COOKS QUICKLY, so even though the edges will probably darken too fast and they could burn, crank the oven up to 425

start very slowly peeling onions for your dal

wrestle with the by now VERY chill dough; thankfully given the amount of butter it softens well

put your 3 cookies on the sheet; bake for 7 minutes

roughly dice the first 2 onion halves

rinse your hands, check the cookies. wow the edges look much darker than either of the first two batches

set timer for another 3 minutes

dice the next half onion

...the bottoms are burning and the center OOZES goop. the top of these guys just looks. so underbaked

heat 3ish tbsp canola oil in skillet; move lentils to the back burner so you have room to take the cookies out on the stovetop

set timer for another 2 minutes

welp. that is going to burn. switch oven off and chill while you start getting the rest of your dal together. finishing dicing onion, start dicing tomatoes (about 280g of each), after onion is chopped put in 1tsp mustard seeds and 1tsp cumin seeds and a 1" ish piece of cinnamon and a bay leaf and one snapped dry red chili in your hot oil

then very roughly dice some ginger

turn stove down and add said ginger

then stick your onion in and cook for around five minutes

stick cookies back in the chilling oven for, idk, 2 minutes? 5?

finish dicing tomato

add tomato and cook

add a dash of cinnamon, a dash of turmeric, 1tsp cumin power, 1/4 tsp coriander powder, 3/4tsp kashmiri red chili powder, 3/4 tsp cardamom, 1/2 tsp salt and cook with the tomato on low heat

your mom calls to talk about your flight back home for the funeral; talk to her and also your grandma.

feel sad and add lentils slowly to pot with spices

bring to a delicate boil

taste, decide it needs some extra something, and add about a tsp garam masala and stir. also a dash more cinnamon powder

did i mention the cookies are now all chilling on the drying rack? that's happening

heat 1tbsp unsalted butter and then add 1.25tsp mustard seeds; let splutter; temper dal

turn off the heat

try one of the crispy cookies (425 batch) and feed to your other housemate, who likes them despite not seeming like a huge dessert person

decide that fresh-ish as they are this bottom is too crispy and the rest of the cookie is too detached from it, texturallly; go for 410 then next time you do something like this and accept the long cooking time

pour dal over 45g spinach to wilt it; eat and enjoy

make your housemate also eat some dal

do dishes till about 9:30

go to bed with extreme reluctance

plan to share your cookies with IRL friends and also the internet

grief is weird. my grandpa is dead. cookies are good.

here are the 400 at 15.5 minutes (bottom right), 410 at 15 (bottom left), and 425 at 12 + cooling oven time (top), so you can see what i mean about the bottoms being different colors:

there's lots of tumblr posts that are like "cooking is done by feel, baking is a SCIENCE" and i'm sure that's true if you care a lot about quality but. like. baking can be as chaotic as you want it to be. at the end you will, if nothing else, have sweet goop. and at best you'll have taken an awful day and a lot of sadness and made a recipe you're glad to share.

happy Friday!

[a-gilded-imprisonment]

Relationships

Dr. Veritas Ratio (canon):

𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

Ah, business partners. The ever-familiar term-- and yet Aventurine will never deny that he feels a pull towards the other man.

Lovers? They could be, if not for Kakavasha's charades and Veritas' pride getting in the way. For now, they're much worse. Aventurine loves to tease him-- after all, he's cute when he's flustered.

Writing partners include: @veritas-ratio-rp, @dr-golden-ratio, @dr-ratio-official

Director Topaz (canon):

𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

Jelena is arguably Aventurine's favourite fellow Stoneheart. She's easily the most tolerable, in his opinion, and he has trust that she would never try to undermine him (which has noooooothing to do with the fact he has seniority over her now, of course not).

He enjoys gossiping talking with her and spoiling Numby, and would nearly call her a friend.

Writing partners include: @topaz-and-numby-official

Lady Bonajade (canon):

𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

Aventurine does not feel like he owes a single thing to Miss Jade. If it were him, he would have preferred to die alone on Sigonia and finally be reunited with his family.

His job is only slavery of a different kind-- he was freed from iron shackles only to be placed into shinier, golden ones. He is wary of Jade and her judgements because he knows full well what she is capable of.

Sunday Oak (canon):

𝐀𝐂𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒(?)

Aventurine has conflicting feelings about the ex-Family head. He still can't quite wrap his head around the fact that the most handsome man in Penacony weaponized the magic of the Harmony-- the very thing he's said to stand for-- to torture someone as insignificant as him.

However, he sees and tries to understand the way the Halovian struggles, and has had a few memorable experiences by his side. He isn't planning to stop visiting his angel anytime soon-- he can't possibly eat all his baked goods alone, after all.

Writing partners include: @sunday-halovian

Robin Oak (canon):

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Ever since approaching Penacony's beloved songbird regarding her brother, the two of them have clicked. Bonding over a shared love of music and anything involving Sunday, the blonde has grown quite attached to the singer.

He affectionately calls her 'little sister' and has promised to her that if he ever begins performance arts, they will collaborate on a song.

Writing partners include: @intergalactic-singer, @manganyeh

Rose Quartz (OC):

𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒

As Shilou is the most recent of the Stonehearts, Aventurine just had to make sure they remain in touch. His courteousness towards the taller man when among the workplace is genuine, and Shilou captivates the gambler as a whole, those prosthetic limbs of his serving as a surefire symbol for a past catastrophe.

Perhaps he could have the answer to his questions if he were to just maybe get close to Shilou. Developing a crush was not part of the plan.

Writing partner/creator: @heart-of-roses-and-quartz

The Ducklings (OCs):

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓-𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃

Avana, Chase, Jasper and Rivera all have two things in common. They are Dr. Ratio's top students at Veritas Prime, and they've managed to worm their way into Aventurine's heart.

They seem to be convinced that there is something more going on between the gambler and the Doctor, and they just might be right. They've picked up a habit of referring to him as 'mom'-- but he's gotten used to it eventually.

Avana's his favourite.

Writing partner/creator: @chxotic-dxcklings

Swallowtail (OC):

𝐀𝐂𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒

There isn't much reason Aventurine wouldn't get along with the racer. The two of them both live a high-stakes, never-ending game and are fueled by adrenaline and spite.

Kakavasha finds it almost terrifying that he can see so clearly through the other's false mask, the simulated pride to keep others away. Something about it reminds him of himself, of staring in a distorted mirror-- and they do say it takes one to know one.

Writing partner/creator: @bluetailed-butterfly

Come be my saviour, and take me away

Away, away (Take me away)

Return to intro post

[bakingtherapy]

Robby's Baking Therapy #20 Plum Cake

Hello, every birdie. In these next few recipes. There is going to be one thing in common: plums. We were given a bunch of plums, and who am I to complain about free food? So I am going to be sharing a bunch of plum recipes with everyone. 

Today’s recipe comes from a website called “Livforcake” and I am going to be following their “Plum cake” recipe. 

I did this cake twice. Once as the recipe specificities and once with apple sauce instead of oil. And I will talk about the results in a little bit. 

The recipe will be down below. Feel free to check it out. This recipe was so easy too follow. And when I say that it definitely is not an insult to the people making these recipes. I have always had a hard time following instructions. And when I am baking I am often overwhelmed by recipes that have a lot of steps.  

The ingredients that you are going to need are:

  2 eggs

Granulated sugar

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Vegetable oil or apple sauce 

Vanilla 

2 plums

I doubled this recipe because I am serving 7 adults one dessert. And I don’t want anyone not getting something.  And also I had enough plums to double it both times. 

Both times I preheated the oven to 350℉. And greased an 8x8 pan. 

Whether you are using oil or apple sauce you want to grab a small bowl and whisk together your flour and baking powder. 

In order to get a light and airy texture for the cake, you have to mix together the sugar and eggs for about 5 minutes on high. Trust me when I say, you want to mix it with either a hand mixer or a stand mixer. I started mixing by hand and knew that I wasn’t going to get the results that I wanted or needed. So I mixed it with my hand mixer on high. 

Next,  you are going to decrease the speed to medium and slowly, add your ¼ cup oil and vanilla. Beat this on high until combined. Which will take about 2-3 minutes. 

Ok, so I did do a little bit of research before I just plopped my applesauce in my cake batter. And everywhere I went said to do a 1:1 ratio. 1 cup of applesauce equals 1 cup oil or butter. However, digging a little deeper I found that bakers didn’t carry much for this ratio and it was easier to start with ½ a cup of applesauce if the recipe calls for 1 cup of oil or butter and just gradually add it, if needed. 

Yeah, I didn’t know that. So added in ¼ cup apple sauce.

You want to add your dry ingredients to the wet. Mix everything together until it is combined. 

Fold in your plum slices. And if you want to get fancy you can save a few plums to place on top. 

Bake both cakes for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown. And the cake tester or toothpick comes out clean. 

Let it cool completely in the pan and dust with powdered sugar. 

I liked both versions of this cake. My dad said that this was an award-winning cake. Everyone said that they were both really good. The only problem I had with the applesauce cake that I now understand is the fact that I added a little too much. If I make this one again with apple sauce I am going to use 2 tablespoons and gradually add more if need be. 

Thank you for liking and following. Feel free to check out the recipe down below. See you in the next recipe. 

Show the original author some 💖💖💖 liv for cake

Here is a printable version of this recipe: on the blog

Please help me get a phone: by supporting me on Kofi / Patreon

[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