#dessert staple

[jadeannbyrne]

99 Frosty Flavors of Fun: A Wendy’s Wonderland

Wendy’s Whisperer: A Lifetime of Flavor Adventures Hey, Glitter Gang! It’s your cosmic traveler and flavor curator, Jade Ann Byrne, coming at you with some sizzling insights from my lifelong journey as a Wendy’s Advisor! 🍔✨ Wendy’s Whisperer: A Lifetime of Flavor Adventures From the crackle of the first fry to the last sip of a Frosty, my adventures with Wendy’s have been nothing short of a…

[a-doptables]

Adopt: Cosmic Deb $65

Available!

Check out our pinned for rules and inquiries! $5 from every sale goes towards Crips for ESims.

[hidefdoritos]

not folding my laundry not refilling my pill sorter not cooking dinner. lying down and thinking about longhaired boys.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Does First have a favorite food?

I’m very tempted to say pumpkin soup lol

[cookplatefork]

The Versatile Apple: A Culinary Staple Across the Globe

[coltencarter]

Bite-Size Lemon Tea Cakes These bite-sized tea cakes with a sweet lemon glaze are so delicious and addictive, they'll become a staple on your Easter dessert menu.

[professorfranz]

Mom's Rhubarb Crisp Recipe This rhubarb crisp recipe features a gorgeous red rhubarb filling flavored with cinnamon and allspice with a buttery brown sugar and oat topping. 1/2 cup butter, 1/2 cup white sugar, 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tablespoon water, 1 cup rolled oats, 1 cup brown sugar, 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 3 cups diced fresh rhubarb, 1 teaspoon ground allspice

[comicgoals]

Recipe for Rhubarb-Peach Crisp Which is crispier, peach or rhubarb? Why choose? Use two summertime favorites in this recipe to combine both into one delectable dish.

[commonground-oc]

Easy Apple Cobbler Pantry staples and fresh Granny Smith apples combine in this quick and easy apple cobbler that's ready in under an hour.

[happymapping]

Bite-Size Lemon Tea Cakes These bite-sized tea cakes with a sweet lemon glaze are so delicious and addictive, they'll become a staple on your Easter dessert menu.

[evendimly]

MMMMM... Brownies Recipe Delicious and simple to make with pantry essentials are these brownies with chocolate chips. You never know—they might end up being the best brownies you've ever had! 1/4 teaspoon baking soda, 2/3 cup all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup white sugar, 2 tablespoons butter, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, 2 large eggs beaten, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1.5 cups semisweet chocolate chips, 2 tablespoons water

[nikopoisson]

Caramel Popcorn Caramel popcorn is sweet, crunchy, and irresistible, and this easy recipe makes a generous batch. Plus it uses pantry staples you probably have on hand.

[ninyo-petit-mart]

Mom's Rhubarb Crisp With a buttery brown sugar and oat topping, the recipe for rhubarb crisp has a gorgeous red rhubarb filling that is spiced with cinnamon and allspice.

[cryptotheism]

The final meal of Chef Dantallion Erwon leaked from the wound in his stomach. Elsewhere, a food reviewer cleared his throat. 

“Ahem.”

I brought all six of my stomachs, but I arrived wearing the gastropod jaw. Chef Erwon’s birthdays are a departure from his ordinary retinue, a gesture to the Continental Atlantean peasant food of his childhood. Comfort food. One expects to scrape wet-grown mosses and brothy vegetables from wood skewers, baskets of baked summer centipedes in pastry, and fine wine. 

Evidently, Chef Erwon was feeling experimental. For detrivores, we were treated to delicate cakes of fried flowers and paper-thin citrus rinds, a variation of the traditional Atlantean summer aperitif. The carnivorous among us ate chainsaw offal charcuterie with an insect tapenade. A visiting church aesthetic was served a live mole to drown in lavender honey. 

The classic bouchon is a staple dish of Erwon’s arsenal. A simple broth of browned butter and olive oil, a body of mixed vegetables in keeping with Continental peasant sensibilities. Erwon’s version is a warm buttery puddle of broth decked with hundreds of tiny vegetable spheres. At his restaurant in Isin, a half-cup will run you nearly 40 washers. I must admit, I am obsessed with the dish. One swipe of the spoon abducts a dozen of the little balls, each cooked to mathematical precision befitting their geometry. I asked a friend in the kitchen just how long it took to cut all the little spheres. She told me that morning, she spent nearly 40 minutes scooping orbs from a single tremendous carrot. 

Next came a short chitin eel risotto. I was told it was cooked by a new method, inspired by Lwes-Atalan rice-and-broth caldo. The result was rubbery, oily, and uneven. Though I suspect even eel chum would taste excellent with slivers of raw garlic and two glasses of dry wine. In good company, I have learned to be polite when chef Erwon says “inspired by.” Post-revolutionary food has never been his strong suit. 

The main course, shoregryphid liver stuffed with expertly spiced fungal pate, is dry-aged and basted with ambitious fruit preserves. I switched stomachs to taste the necrovore preparation, instead stuffed with the animal’s sweet dry-fetid offal and savory bone meal. I found it far superior, reminiscent of the dishes preparation for a Khularim holiday dinner. 

A fleet of glass bell jars marked the cheese course. Green flowers for omnivores, red for necrovores, yellow for detrivores. The flowers were not strictly necessary. Half the cheesemongers in the city were in attendance. I found myself wonderfully accosted with rinds of purple molds and crackers spread with creamy semirotten forest detritus. A fine job all. Though, I draw particular attention to Miss Muribe of Southpine Dairy, who showed off a wonderfully delicate sour-curd aged –as she says– in the fuel tank of a live cargo drake. 

Dessert was another of Erwon’s experiments. In keeping with his theory of humoric balance, the final course was intended as a nutritional mirror of the previous dishes. Palm-sized crates of butter pastry filled with chalky sour-grape meringue and crushed green nuts were almost cohesive. I hesitate to use the word “medicinal” out of respect for my colleague’s inventive spirit. Ahem.

The food reviewer cleared his throat again. “That’s as much as I have. Until, well, you know.”

“Fancy stuff,” said the short detective, “really works up an appetite.”

“Oey, be polite,” said the tall detective “Mister Mornie has lost a colleague.”

[mickyschumacher]

[I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it's been more than eight months since you and jobe broke up. that should be plenty of time to move on. but out of all the cafes in birmingham, you and jobe meet at your favourite on valentine's day.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, slightly angsty but not really, reader is a student, mentions of a break up obviously, not much too do with the titular song sorryyy, incase it's not obvious, the fic goes in and out of the past (italics), honestly just two young kids in love

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jobe bellingham x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.5k

𝐀/𝐍: the fourth fic of my series! i thought this was the cutest one to write bc it's just young puppy love and i love everything about it. hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were young. You had your whole life ahead of you. Or so everybody says. 

“Life’s too short to stay caught up in the past. Live in the present.” 

“There will always be someone better. Something better. Don’t reminisce about the past. Think about what will come to you.” 

But it’s because you were young...  how could you ever forget the first boy you ever fell in love with?  

Eight months and seven days ago, you broke up with Jobe (not that you were counting or anything.) Eight months was long, but it wasn’t that long. You could still feel his touch, his smell... feel him all around you. 

Some days were more difficult than others. The busier it was, the easier it was to forget that you were ever in a relationship. But sometimes, all it took was the notification of your phone to remind you.  

You stood outside a familiar scene, contemplating everything as you stared hard at the building. It was your café. Your and Jobe’s. The place where you and Jobe met. The place where you and Jobe hung out together every day because there was no other place like it.  

Your eyes fell to their sign board, red and pink chalk hearts capturing your attention as much as the lovely ‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ sprawled across the black canvas.  

You really shouldn’t be here. Not today out of all days. But even though you had purposely gotten home through a different route to avoid this very café for the past eight months, your body seemed to remember.  

Trying not to think too much, you walked in, immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.  

You hadn’t met Jobe at this point. You knew nothing about him. But the moment you had walked into the café, your eyes almost naturally diverted to the corner of the building. And there you were met with the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen.  

You didn’t know it yet, but it would soon become your favourite shade of brown in the world.  

Hesitantly, you looked over at the corner where it all began. You knew Jobe wouldn’t be there. But you couldn’t help being left with disappointment. The corner table was instead taken by a small family.  

Quietly, you peered at the cabinets of sweets. Pistachio croissants, red velvet cookies, lemon and lime cheesecakes... some of the staples of the café. You and Jobe had tried every single one of them, reviewing them in depth. Both of your favourites were the raspberry and white chocolate blondie. It was what you both chose when you first met. And to your rotten luck, you watched it get pulled onto a plate. With a small pout, your eyes followed the server, unable to look away from the dessert.  

But that was a minor distraction compared to the distraction waiting at the table being served. 

You think your eyes are deceiving you.  

That same shade of brown eyes stared back at you. Once upon a time, you were able to read them from afar. But you couldn’t remember how to. Was it disbelief? Doubt? Perhaps shock?  

You weren’t sure when or how, but your feet had managed to inch their way to his table.  

“Jobe,” you breathed out, unsure of how long it had been since you had last said his name. 

Jobe blinked, shaking his head slightly to break his trance. He cleared his throat, calling your name as he always called it. You remembered how he repeated it when you first introduced yourself to him... like he was already in love with you.  

He gestured to the chair next to you. “You can take a seat,” Jobe mumbled towards the end, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.  

As you took a seat, you wanted to say something, hell anything, but you couldn’t find the words. You were pretty sure you were dreaming right now.  

“Do you want me to order you your coffee? Half strength cappuccino with cinnamon, right?” Jobe asked, standing up from his seat.  

“Oh–uh, just a hot chocolate, please,” you tightly smiled, fingers fidgeting underneath the table.  

You could see Jobe furrow his brows, wanting to say something but instead he nodded slowly and went towards the front till. As he ordered, you debated a little bit of everything.  

What were you doing right now? If you were indeed dreaming, was this a sign of some sort of identity crisis? Because dreaming about your ex on Valentine’s Day was a new low for you. If this is real, maybe you could sneak out of here. He probably wouldn’t notice. All you had to do was stand up and just– 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Jobe asked, taking his seat back in front of you.  

You pursed your lips. “Not really. I’m trying to lean off of it these days.” 

Jobe nodded again slowly, processing what you said. He didn’t know this part of you. All he knew of you was the year you spent together and the past you shared. This... it’s like he wasn’t caught up with you anymore. And he hated it.  

You disliked silence. It was a known fact. You always had. It was unbearable. Like a loud clock ticking over your shoulder. So, Jobe wasn’t surprised went you spoke up a few seconds after he had finished.  

“Mum asked about you the other day,” you blurted, eyes quickly  

The corners of Jobe’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah?” He queried, ears paying extra attention.  

You nodded, pulling on your sleeves. “She found your football boots in the garage. The blue ones. She said she misses you.” 

“I miss her too,” Jobe smiled softly. His eyes flickered out the window before coming back to you. “Do you?” 

You raised a brow, ignoring the thump of your heart in your chest. “Miss my mum?” You asked even though you knew that’s not what he meant. 

Jobe laughed to himself, resting in his chair comfortably. “You know what I mean.”  

You opened you mouth to speak as your large cup of hot chocolate was placed before you. Jobe watched you smile widely at staff, thanking them and God did it send his heart running.  

“If you had to choose, what is one thing you like about me?” Jobe queried, looking down at your face as you rested on his lap.  

You pretended to mull over the question even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to feel his hands in your hair for a little longer. “Your eyes,” you decided. 

“My eyes?” Jobe repeated, eyes already crinkling as his smile widened. “What’s so special about my eyes?”  

“They’re my favourite shade of brown. I love looking into them. They’re so warm and calm, filled with so much love and yet they make me so nervous,” you murmured, cheeks heating up as a comfortable silence fell between the both of you.   

Jobe couldn’t help but grin at your shy smile. He pushed the hairs out of your face, taking a good look at you. “Is that why you always look away?” 

Bingo. He had caught you red-handed.  

“Obviously,” you muttered, unable to look at him any longer. “If I could, I would stare at you for forever. But I can’t. So, I just do it when you can’t see,” you shrugged.  

Jobe smiled, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “I love you,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you sighed, hands warming around your cup of hot chocolate. “You’ve never left my mind. Not that you ever could,” you admitted quietly.  

“I’ll take that,” Jobe sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You miss me,” he teased, smile widening.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before you put in the marshmallows on the side. Mixing the cup gently, you watched Jobe push forward the raspberry and white chocolate blondie to towards you.  

“You’re first bite. Go on,” he nudged, nodding to the plate.  

You sighed, knowing very well he wasn’t going to start eating unless you did. You grabbed a spoon, taking the corner side of the blondie. As soon as it entered your mouth, you were positive you had died and gone to heaven. “Oh my God, how they do it?” You asked to no one particularly.  

Jobe, who had also grabbed a bite, nodded in agreement. “I know right? How they get the balance so good? Not too sweet and not too sour. We still haven’t figured out what white chocolate they use.” 

“My money’s still on Hamilton’s. Ooh, or maybe Montezumas! Their chocolate buttons were so good the last time you brought them,” you pointed out, still mulling over the thought.  

Jobe stared at you quietly, watching everything fall back to its normal pace for a brief second. The one where you talked and he listened. The one where he absorbed as much of you as he could.  

“What about me?” You asked, turning your head gently to the side. “What’s one thing you like about me?” 

Jobe’s fingers slowly caressed your face as he pretended to think because he also knew his answer. “Everything,” he softly responded.

Your brows furrowed. “Everything? That’s not one thing,” you complained, reaching out to hit his shoulder gently. 

A laugh fell from Jobe’s lips. “It is,” he maintained, “everything about you makes me nervous. Every time I look at you, your smile, your eyes, your kindness... your essence makes me feel like the whole world is collapsing.” 

Reality hit, however, when Jobe recalled your breakup. Eight months and seven days ago (not that he was counting either), you both had reached a breaking point.  

You both knew it was coming. The past few days had been tense. You hadn’t seen each other as much. Jobe could barely see you smile and he hated it. And the warmth in Jobe’s eyes were replaced with exhaustion.  

You were both sat in your room in silence. Another thing you usually hated but it seemed you were trying resist it, allowing minutes to pass.  

“I think we should break up.” 

Your voice, although quiet, was resounding. It was like you had announced it in a stadium. It was echoing back to your ears and making your heart beat thud and your hands clammy.  

“I...” Jobe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to agree with you. But he knew it was right.  

You let out a tired sigh. “Jobe, how long are we going to go on like this? Hmm? How long are we going to pretend our lives aren’t in the way of our relationship? You’re always at training. And I’m always studying. I can’t reschedule another date... another birthday.” 

Jobe closed his eyes at your words. His body burned with anger and annoyance. He had rescheduled your birthday dinner not once, not twice but four times because he had training.  

You understood Jobe. He was new to Sunderland and he didn’t want to mess anything up. Not with him carrying the Bellingham name. Not with all the eyes watching him. But even that had a limit.  

“I don’t think this is our time, Jobe,” you croaked, throat breaking as hot tears welled up in your eyes.  

Jobe could feel his heart shatter. He hated seeing you sad. Fuck, he hated it so much. But the truth was loud in his ears.  

He couldn’t make you happier. He couldn’t make the time. 

You couldn’t compromise any longer. You couldn’t make the time. 

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if the chocolate was from Sainsbury or Aldi’s or something?” You joked, bringing Jobe back to reality once again.  

Jobe looked at you quietly before blurting, “I’m sorry.” 

You paused, smile dropping off of your face. “Huh? All of a sudden?” 

Jobe sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never made time for you. I’m sorry for rescheduling your damn birthday out of all things. And most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us more.” 

You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting your heart to ache so abruptly. You tried looking into his eyes, but all you could do was focus on the floating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, all slowly disappearing. 

Your eyes burned on the brink of crying but for some odd reason... you couldn’t. 

“Do you know what it means to live, Jobe?” 

Your question sent Jobe into a flurry of confusion. “I don’t... I, uh–” 

“To live life is to be in the moment. To take joy and sorrow in all we have. Living means to never take anything for granted.” You breathed in, slowly moving your eyes to his. There it was. Your favourite shade of brown. No exhaustion in sight. Just warmth, calm... love. 

“I don’t think I started living until I met you.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but sit back and truly take you in. Your eyes shook, clearly nervous, but you voice was firm, clear on what you had said. He was sure there’d be times in the future, but right now, you were making him the most nervous he had ever been in his entire life.  

You looked like love.  

You looked like the love of his life–heck, you were love of his life.  

“These past eight months... listen, I know the last few days before our break up sucked but,” your breath hitched while tears officially began welling in your eyes, “these eight months and seven days have been miserable.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but laugh softly at your words as he bent forward, wiping away your stray tears. You had also been counting.  

“I’m in love with you,” Jobe confessed, hand caressing your cheek, “I always have been. And I always will. Please give us, me, a second chance.” 

Your eyes softened at his words, mouth about to open to respond when his voice cut you off. “Unless you’re in a relationship–shit, wait, I forgot to ask you that. You aren’t, are you? Not in like a bad way because like people would be crazy not to ask you out but–” 

“Jobe!” You interrupted; eyes wide with amusement. You could hear him go quiet making you laugh softly to yourself. “I’m not in a relationship,” you confirmed.  

A big sigh of relief fell from Jobe’s lips, shoulders dropping now that he was tension-free. He sat back in his chair, muttering something about how thankful he was to the universe.  

You cleared your throat, gaining his attention once again. “And for the record...” You started, grabbing his hand from across the table. Instantly, he tightened his grip around, afraid you’d let go. “I’d love to give us a second chance. And I promise I’ll make time. We’ll figure this out together, hmm?” 

Those lovely brown eyes you had fallen in love with shone and you doubt anyone would believe you, but you think he’s on the brink of crying. Jobe smiled, holding your hands close to him. “Does this count as a second date?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You better be joking,” you teased.  

“But this is where we first met!” Jobe retorted, grin playing on his lips. 

You furrowed your brows. “What were you doing here anyways? It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Honestly?” Jobe asked, receiving your nod. “I was going to cheer myself up with this raspberry blondie. And then I saw you.”  

You smiled widely. “It’s like the first day we met all over again.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[saintfelina]

alright alright you want something sweet i get it! what better way to usher in the new year than with something uplifting and delectable? it could be a sign of good things to come, it could be something comforting. but what exactly is a gourmand?

simply put, gourmands are scents reminiscent of food. normally based on desserts they'll have notes of sugar, vanilla, whipped cream, caramel, praline, cake, cotton candy, cookie, milk etc. they're normally based around desserts, it's like wearing a bakery. i get the urge! it brings back warm and fuzzy memories, or maybe you just want to smell good enough to eat.

nevertheless, if you absolutely have to smell tooth rottingly sweet in 2025, this is the way to go.

the gourmand to end all gourmands. this is like a hydrogen bomb of sugar and the foremother of all the other scents mentioned (except maybe fantasy). it's ultra potent rich caramel burnt sugar cotton candy. you'll love it or you'll hate it.

fantasy is often a girls first gourmand. and it's a staple in my own collection. it's a bright, almost zingy kiwi cupcake. super potent and i'll be honest one of my only compliment getters. it smells like girlishness in a bottle

petite gateau was inspired by parisian cafes and it fits that to a tea. a warm, buttery gourmand that's a smooth "lived in" kind of sweet reminescent of buttercream. it's like the sweetness of vanilla mixing in with the warmth of the oven radiating throughout your home.

viva la juicy sucre was once discontinued but due to fan response was brought back and it's surged to the top of many a "best gourmands" list. its a peachy, creamy gourmand that's very potent. signature scent worthy and it has that signature viva la juicy drydrown so if you're not a fan of that you won't like this.

sabrina carpenter has been taking the world by storm. but before her hit espresso, those tapped into the perfume game knew sweet tooth was where it's at. super affordable, its a fluffy, marshmallowy scent. perfectly straddling the line between girlish and sensual with its cashmere drydown.

kayali has recently hit the streets with boujee marshmallow and this (along with pistachio gelato) are master gourmands. this one is denser, sweeter and a lot more ultra feminine. it's almost a strawberry marshmallow milkshake. but because of how heavy it is, i recommend going very light with this one.

i know i said i'm not a fan od dupe house but lattafa is a rare case in that they both dupe and create original scents--often times in the same bottle. and this is one of them. said to be a dupe for the infamous bianco latte, this is truly a very beautiful scent on it's own right. rich, sweet and sensual it's almost like an expensive dessert in a bottle.

one of my top fragrances of 2024, pear gelato smells like a cool refreshing treat. the pear adds a lot of freshness, almost like the "ice" in ice cream. it lasts all day and actually gets me compliments. it's an almost photorealistic smell, reminding me of when your ice cream melts and seeps into the sticky waffle cone. perfect for spring/summer.

annabel's birthday cake is unique in that it smells like every aspect of a birthday party. the latex note smells like party balloons littering the floor of a party soaked in the scent of the freshly baked, just brought out cake lit up with candles.