#literally just throw some flour and water in a bowl and add some other things (salt/sugar/egg/butter) if you feel like it

[beeleoblue]

Yknow i was always scared of baking because unlike cooking its very precise and you cant just fuck around and find out. But actually that was wrong and you can fuck around and find out and a lot of the time it ends well

[twotangledsisters]

Cheap Meals

So, I've got to shopping today because my fridge is literally empty. And I googled cheap meals to kind of inspire me and try not to buy the same five things every single week.

But whenever I do this I'm reminded how the word "cheap" is not always the same. And how often times cheap also means extremely high effort which isn't compatible with many lifestyles as well as people struggling with mental illness or physical illness...

So here are the meals that got me through some really difficult times (these meals aren't all healthy, they are simply healthier than skipping meals constantly which is what I did for a long time):

1.- Popcorn, where I live three bags cost one euro, that's 33 cents a meal that is hot, has flavour and just needs throwing in the microwave. Perfect to stop yourself from skipping a meal.

2.- Humus. A cheap blender, preferably the type uses for making juice is honestly the best thing ever. For humus you just throw chickpeas (I always use jarred) into said blender with whatever spices you like (I usually do salt, pepper, comino and curry powder), you blend and done! It can be eaten with nachos, on toast, or just on it's own. Takes five minutes is super cheap.

3.- Eggy bread, (basically French toast without the cinnamon) you just throw some egs in a bowl, mix them, add spices, dip the bread in and throw onto the pan. Takes barely any time, good hot meal, cheapest thing ever.

4.- Toast, obviously, having just some jam at home that can be spread onto some toast is another good way to avoid skipping a meal.

5.- Porridge, oats are super cheap, you just mix them with some milk, throw in the microwave and ta-dah! I add honey because honey is super cheap here but I know some areas it's more expensive, I've also added bananas when they're in season.

6.- Roasted vegetables, the other day pumpkins were cheap so I grabbed one, cut it in half threw it in the oven and that's that. Three meals ready to go. You can do a bunch of different vegetables, add spices or don't, do whatever works for you. Fried vegetables is also good but that requires a tiny bit more attention.

7.- Salad. People underestimate salad, at home you have full control, the other day I had glass noodles with cucumber and soy sauce. It was easier to make than pot-ramen and super healthy and tasted great. Sometimes I do pasta salad by making the pasta the day before and leaving it in the fridge (usually I make a pasta meal and just set some aside), russian salad is also amazing and super cheap.

8.- Vegetarian wraps, I just buy the frozen already chopped peppers form my supermarket, I fry them with a seasoner for burritos and then throw them into some wraps, cheap quick and delicious.

9.- Cereal, this is within the toast and popcorn area, just worth having around for when depression is high.

10.- Ramen but not ramen? Obviously, the pots of ramen are really expensive if you are dirt poor, but most supermarket sell noodles and chicken broth wich is the same thing. You just boil the noodle in the broth, I usually do this until their is no broth so it's not really ramen but to each their own. Make it extra amazing by adding a few more spices and an egg. Cheap, five minutes, delicious.

11.- Carbonara or bolognaise: just spaghetti (or any other pasta it doesn't really matter), for bolognaise I do tinned tomato, some onion, some garlic (depended on the season it'll be fresh or frozen), and if I have a bit of extra cash I add meat, but mostly my meals are vegetarian. For carbonara (this isn't proper carbonara but it works) I just do cooking cream, mushrooms, sometimes onion and again, if I have the money, bacon.

12.- Pizza bread, or pizza really. Just throw some tomato, cheese and ham on a piece of bread and put it in the oven. You can add or remove ingredients. If you have the time, flour and water makes dough to do proper pizza but you need to leave it to raise and I know I rarely think that far ahead.

13.- Toad in the whole, basically you mix water, flower and egg to make a pancake like batter, add some salt, put it in an oven friendly bowl or whatever, throw in some sausages (though I've done this without the sausages plenty of times), you get a bread, pancake, kinda thing and if you added sausages the juices make it taste extra good.

BONUS DESSERT: Cartwheels, basically you buy a pack of digestive biscuits and a bad of marshmallows, you put one marshmallow on one biscuit, put in the microwave for literally 10 seconds or less, when the marshmallow expands you place the other biscuit on top and voila! Super fast, cheap because you get lots of them out of those packs, warm.

Also, if you's feeling a bit depressed hot beverages are the cheapest treat I consistently get myself, like nice teas if you count the price per cup is super cheap but makes me happy. I also have like a pot of instant caramel cappuccino and some nice hot cholate powder.

Anyway, if you're struggling right now, good luck, the world is a mess right now and we just kind of have to trudge through that mess. Feel free to add anything that helped you through hard times because everybody has their own experience.

And again, most of these are not healthy, but sometimes you're just surviving and trust me, this is so much better than fainting because you haven't eaten in too long.

Good luck.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

--------------

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

--------------

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

--------------

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

--------------

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[stygiantarot]

Unusual Divination Methods

A long ass list of methods of divination, just in case you’re curious ~~~~~~

Divination is the method of discerning answers beyond a direct interaction. It can be used for foreseeing future outcomes or problems, but that isn’t inherent. It can also be used to commune with entities like deities or spirits, or even for delving deeper into the self (like shadow work).

There are many forms of divination. So many. There are even many forms of what would be considered “unusual” beyond the more commonly practices like cartomancy, runes, or stichomancy. Today I shall be focusing on ones I’m familiar with so I can better elaborate and answer questions.

The methods I will be exploring today:


Aleuromancy: divination using flour (or a flour substitute!)


Catoptromancy: a form of scrying using a mirror (my method uses a cast iron pan actually!)


Osteomancy: divination using bones

~~~~~~

Aleuromancy

A form of divination using flour that’s mentioned in some Mesopotamian cunefiorms, as well as being practiced in Greece and Rome. There are a couple ways this can be done. Firstly is when you pour out the dry flour and look at the way it falls into a bowl or on a plate or surface. Much like tea leaf reading (tasseography), you seek out shapes in the flour and interpret based on that. Another variation is doing the same but after you’ve mixed the flour with the liquids you’re baking with and kneaded it/mixed it and then taken it away to be baked. You examine the remaining streaks of wet dough on your surfaces for shapes and patterns.

The third method is to actually put slips of paper into the items you’re baking to be taken at random and broken open to answers questions after they’re cooked (akin to fortune cookies). This can be a tricky process depending on what sort of paper or ink you’ve used (speaking from experience :-X). The historical Greek version of this used excerpts of famous philosophy and mixed the balls of doughs nine times (a significant number in Ancient Greece)

It can take a lot of patience to try and find shapes and patterns in flour and admittedly it’s much easier with tea leaves. No wonder that became the standard. Don’t get disheartened if it isn’t something you have success with. You might have more fun and results experimenting with the baking slips of paper into dough methods. Great for ritual cookies!

The kind of divining using this method is very simple, more “omen-like” than detailed q&as like in Tarot or runes. Expect to see simple images that may give insight to something coming your way (a boat or bird showing a trip) or warn of a specific type of trouble that may be on the horizon (a money sign showing finances) rather than getting a formulated question clearly answered. However, you can dabble in that methodology when using the slips of paper instead. That way is more akin to stichomancy where you get a general idea or snapshot of the emotion or proverb-like metaphor to your question.

The type of flour can be tailored to help “fine tune” the reading as well- much like a certain flavor or tea or a certain deck of cards. Keep in mind that all types of grains/flours have a baseline association with prosperity and material gain/finances so this method of divination is especially good for those type of questions!



Flour Correspondences:


Acorn: An uncommon one in stores of course, but has deep wildcrafting results if you have the time and patience to grind some yourself. Associated with protection, health, money, healing, potency, fertility, luck, wealth, wisdom, and personal power.


Almond: creativity, luck, wisdom, spiritual understanding, nostalgia

Buckwheat: Money, protection, dreams and sleep


Flaxseed: health, finances, prosperity, beauty, psychic powers

Oat: family, home, hearth, money

Potato: protection, banishing, soothing/healing


Rice: prosperity, career/job, travel, romantic relationships/sex

Wheat: general prosperity, rebirth/renewal, solar energy

~~~~~~

Catoptromancy

From the Greek word katoptron, meaning mirror, this is a form of scrying that specifically uses a mirror rather than flame, water, or crystal ball. However, my version is a bit of a kitchen witch twist on it. We’ll get to that in a moment!

 The Wikipedia article on it refers to a Greek temple that used this method but it was also practiced in many other countries in history. There’s references to the “true seeing” of Hathor/Het-Hert/ḥwt-ḥr mirrors as well, despite them being mainly for practical purposes. The divination is practiced most commonly by placing a mirror near water, outside in moonlight, or near a candle flame. Then the reader looks into the mirror and interprets the images seen. They can be direct appearance-based (how you look) or seeing other images. The mirror can be a standard one, a painted one, or one made of a more opaque substance like obsidian or metal.

I will say personally, I practice catoptromancy in an “inner eye” scrying way rather than a pattern/tasseography way. That means that I am the conduit and the mirror/surface is to help me get into a trance state and what I “see” will be from my mind’s eye or may likely be added to what little I see on the surface through intuition and that sixth sense. But either method is absolutely fine.

I also don’t use a mirror. I use a well loved, well seasoned cast iron skillet for my catoptromancy, with a lighted candle usually. The glossy surface is mostly black iron but is just mirrored enough from being soaked in fat over the past decades of seasoning that it performs quite well for scrying. And the sentimental value helps it’s power. You may want to select an object in a similar fashion. You can choose an important mirror (the size doesn’t matter) or pick something that is mirror-like. The reflective ability is all that matters.

Get settled down in a comfortable spot without too much light. Get your one light source ready; a candle, the moon, a small table lamp or booklight even. You’ll want to be grounded, centered, and calm and then let yourself “zone out” in order to get into the mindset for scrying. Then examine your own reflection for certain aspects that stand out or look past yourself (or angle the mirror to not be looking right at you) to see other shapes or patterns that you expand upon with your trance state. Keeping a journal for this method is especially important. There’s an emotional and internal reflection aspect that can be helpful to refer back to and examine how things went in your life after certain sessions. It can also pair well with dream magic. What you were seeking might manifest after the trance mirror session in your dreams. This method of divination is especially good for shadow work as well.

~~~~~~

Osteomancy

Bones, bones bones! Throwing the bones! Examining the bones! Reading the bones! This is a divination method that obviously uses bones in order to determine associations and messages. It was prevalent in so many cultures throughout ancient and more recent history that it’s hard to pin down a single source. However, there are definitely methods that have particular cultural ties and those should be respected when it comes to closed ones. 

Much like runes or staves, the most common method counts upon both the appearance of the bones themselves as well as their placement in a “casting” (when you gently toss them onto a flat surface). Casting sets also frequently include items that aren’t just bones like small stones, coins, shells, pieces of jewelry, etc.

You can carve, mark, paint or stain the bones in ways that have personal associations to you to help in reading them. You can obtain these bones in any ethical way you are comfortable with. I don’t believe they have to be remains you have processed yourself; though that can add a different spiritual component. You should be considerate in collecting your set though. There is no set number of objects to have (even a single piece can answer yes/no questions) but I don’t recommend starting out of the gate with a pile. You should get comfortable with each piece and determine its associations before moving on to a new one.

Unlike Tarot, they don’t come with set meanings. Though there are sometimes obvious ones: a coin for finances, a seedpod or nut for fertility/prosperity, a sharp tooth for protection, etc. Think about what creature the bone is from, what part of the body, what shape it has when helping determine your personal associations. Treat it like a correspondence for herbs or crystals and that way you can have a more organic “sliding scale” type meaning for when you cast rather than a rigidly detailed one like with Tarot. For example: a meaning like “luck” or “prosperity” is better than “success in work”. It’s also common to have objects touch and then their meanings are joined. In the previous example you could get promotion/raise at work from having a work piece crossing with a prosperity or luck piece.

It is also up to you on what level of ritualized dedication and/or care you would like to give your set. Many people like to do a special dedication ritual to almost “welcome” the item to its new job as a divination tool (my own is what I call “Massaging the Bones”). You can also regularly cleanse and “feed” the casting set (energy that is- not literal food, though you could give it energy from something you’ve cooked in a non-literal way!). I do recommend a special bag or box to keep everything in as well as a soft thicker cloth to cast on. Just so the items don’t get damaged. Be careful in your casting. Practice a lot to know your strength level to throw while still keeping the objects safe. There may be a couple pieces (like baculums or thinner bird bones) that you need to wrap in a square of cloth before storing with the rest of your set for extra protection. This is especially true if you plan to take your set anywhere where it’ll be traveling in a bag or purse.

You can have a ritual circle of string or another material (embroidery hoop!) you lay out to help organize your cast if you like too. This is usually treated one of two ways. Like the face of a clock and items “closer” to certain times are more immediate and further away items around the imaginary numerals are more in the future. Or it’s concentric and the closer to the center of the circle are more important/relevant and then less relevant or immediate as you get closer to the edge. Those that fall outside the circle aren’t relevant to the reading.

This is a divination method you need an large amount of patience for as it is basically creating a tool yourself from scratch, even if you buy the supplies from elsewhere. The framework is laid by you. And just like someone designing a Tarot deck from scratch; be gentle with yourself and allow yourself the room to practice, change, grow, have fallow periods, return, get bored, become fanatic, etc. It’s a process sort of divination that grows like a living thing. This makes it a bittersweet one- rewarding and frustrating but mostly immensely satisfying.

~~~~~~

Divination is something that can be tailored to your desires, needs, and supplies. It can be made personal. You can create a whole new type if you like! Use what inspires you, what works for you. Use the marks on toast, the recommendations of Netflix, steam in a bathroom mirror after a shower. The world is your oyster!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

If I can still request... Halloween cookie decorating with Michael?

Yeah, of course you can still request!

Halloween blurb night going until 8PM PDT. Writing for Shawn Mendes, 5sos, Harry Styles and FAHC. 

Enjoy the Halloween Blurb Night 2020 Masterlist.

Enjoy my full masterlist

__________________

“I want cookies,” the proclamation leaves Michael’s lips and you nearly jump int your skin. You spin around and see him rummaging through the fridge is kitten eared shaped headphones still covering his ears. Your heart thunders in your chest but starts to slow just realizing it’s your boyfriend. 

He had previously been shouting at Luke from his office, no doubt the two of them playing a Co-op game and Luke was not pulling his weight the way Michael wanted him too. You suspected Calum had jumped in and out of the game at some point--you think you heard Michael say goodbye to him but you couldn’t be sure if it was a goodbye because Calum had to duck out or a goodbye because Michael had kicked him from the discord server--what they used to talk to each other rather than using in-game comms. 

“Do we have cookies?”

You exhale. “I don’t think so? Check the freezer.”

He nods, with a hum and closes the fridge after refilling his metal canister of water. You hear the freezer exhale as the door opens and he rummages, the crinkle of packages being touched, moved, or lifted. “Hmm, looks like we have a severe lack of cookies.”

“Okay, I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some. Just write it down on the list for me please.”

The pen scratches against the fridge and then it stops. “Would you be opposed to making cookies from scratch? I think we should decorate them. For Halloween.”

You pause at your sauce pan and look over your shoulder to him, the sleeves to the sweatshirt pushed up now on his forearm and the ears still glowing. “You want to make cookies from scratch?”

He nods. “Can’t be that hard.”

“Okay, figure out what we need then. We can attempt it.”

He smiles, stepping in to kiss your cheek. “Got it. Right after this last hunt.”

“Hunt?”

“Ghost hunting,” Michael shouts in return, his voice already sounding far away. 

“Just don’t bring any spirits into my house, Clifford!”

Your phone buzzes on the counter next to you. You remove the sauce from the heat and wipe your hands on the towel. No promises, Michael replies. You sigh and set it back down. “If he brings ghosts into this house, he’s going need to find God.”

There are a few shouts from the back room but right as you pull dinner from the oven, Michael comes padding back down the hallway and helps you plate dinner. He lets you know that he’s got the list for cookie making on his phone. His excitement is palpable as he talks about wanting to cut them into shapes, ghosts for sure. Possibly buying some bat cookie cutter too. 

“We’ll need pipping bags and icing,” you cut in. 

He snaps his fingers in agreement, nodding, as he works around his bite. He covers his mouth after a moment. “Remind me to put that on the list.”

The rattle of the cart cuts above the soft hum of music from the overhead speakers. Michael is manning the cart, his phone in his hand as he reads over his list. You follow behind, taking in the signs about what’s on sale. The first mission is cookies, but you can see apples and some other produce with red and yellow signs to attract attention so you want to check them out. 

Michael dumps sugar, flour, vanilla, baking soda, baking powder, butter, and eggs into the cart. He finds the cookie cutters and manages to snag the last ones on the hook for ghosts and one for bats. You pick out one that as an assortment of crescent moons, cats, and spiderwebs. 

“Which size tip for piping?” Michael asks and then suddenly the snickers sputter out of him. “I meant for piping icing. But ya know if you have another preference, let me know,” he wiggles his brows at you and you nearly throw the packet of cookie cutters in your hand at him. 

“There are children on this aisle!” You reprimand and shuffle down to grab the assorted package and toss it into the cart. 

“Oh c’mon. You gotta admit. It was pretty funny.”

“God, sometimes,” you start, laughing as you push the cart down the aisle. His laughter rings out behind you as you shuffle down towards produce.

Michael sets out the butter onto the counter first thing, knowing it needs to soften more from his extensive reading of the the Allrecipes website. You pull out mixing bowls and the cookie sheet to help prep the kitchen but Michael pulls you back into him by your hips and you know he’s got another things on his mind. “Well the butter softens,” he whispers pressing a kiss along your neck. 

“Do not make another tip joke, I swear to high heavens,” you laugh in a nearly silent exhale. 

“Nah, no jokes.” His fingers tease the hem of your shirt and push it up just enough to tease the band of skin exposed to him. You melt into him, pushing your hips back into his. It’s all too easy to give in. 

You’re not distraction enough to keep Michael from his cookies though, even as he kisses across your chest, heaving in time with you as your bodies finally start to unwind, he hums, “Cookie time?”

“Yes, yes, cookie time.” He tosses you his sweatshirt and slips back into his boxers and pants before padding into the kitchen. Both of you wash your hands and Michael pulls up the recipe on the iPad you keep in the kitchen just for trying new recipes. 

You level off the flour as Michael measures out the baking soda and powder. Softly he hums a song, but doesn’t seem to be pressed enough to turn on the speakers at all. You let the soft sound wash over him and start creaming together the sugar and butter. You think you should’ve found the stand mixer Michael’s mother gave you at Christmas one year. But you never had use for it and tucked it into some cabinet and now you can’t even remember which one. 

Michael cuts in, to give your arms a break and you move onto looking into the icing. After getting the black one ready, you alternate back to creaming and you two work like that until Michael’s satisfied and adds in the egg. Before long you add in the flour, baking soda, and powder and Michael takes over from there. 

He stands over cutter shapes,arms folding as he gently strokes his head. “Start with cats? Bats? Ghosts?”

“You can start with whatever,” you answer, rubbing at his back. 

“Cats,” he settles and on the rolled out sheet of cookie dough, presses the cat cut out into it. He alternate rows of cats, bats, ghosts, and spiderwebs until the entire sheet is full. You peel up the excess dough and roll it back into a ball before making simple circles for the other sheet. 

“More shapes?” he asks. “Free hands some pumpkins?”

“Sure. So we can both laugh at our terrible drawing skills.”

As the cookies settle into the oven, you scoop the icing from their bowls into the bags and it’s not much longer for the oven beeps at you both. Michael pulls them out and and laugh. A couple that were placed too close cooked into each other. “Emergency surgery,” he hollers, finding a sharp knife. “Excuse me, Dr. You have to save them.”

You laugh but take the knife gently and cut them apart. “Procedure is a success. Move them into recovery to cool.”

Michael sets the sheets on the potholders and finds the spatula to remove the cookies to the cooling rack. “It’s a miracle! You’re a life saver.”

“We do our best,” you return, washing bowls and utensils. It takes another forty minutes to get the kitchen back into order. Michael takes over the cats and ghosts and you take the spiderwebs and bats. The icing oozes just a little, running the second it hits the cookies. “They might not have cooled enough?” you ask, pausing on your first bat.

“Try this black one. That icing might’ve sat out too long,” he says, handing over his bag of black icing. This one is the right consistency and Michael moves onto the ghosts. 

“God,” Michael huffs, stretching his hands. “This is a lot of work.”

“You wanted to do this!”

He laughs, resting his chin on your shoulder as you work on your first freehanded pumpkin. You try to follow the tutorial but are failing with your shaky hands. “I know. I don’t regret. Not being able to spend time with you is always worth it.”

Another kiss is placed to your cheek and he watches the lines of the pumpkin come out crooked. “My hands are too shaky. Michael please take over. I can’t do this precision work.”

He chuckles but takes the piping bag. “God thing I’m a god in finger and steady hand work.”

“I’m literally going to divorce you,” you laugh kissing his back. 

“Good luck with that.”

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Crusty No-Knead Artisan Bread & Bread Baking Tips

Inspired by a request from @grandpa-sweaters, I will be posting some of my favorite recipes for the holidays during the 12 Days of Solstice. In my mind, nothing is better than a freshly baked loaf of bread. Baking bread can seem intimidating at first, but once you get the hang of it, you learn that bread dough is actually quite forgiving, and it doesn't take much effort to produce a loaf that will absolutely wow everyone at your holiday feast.

Case in point is the old world magic of the Crusty No-Knead Artisan Bread. It's so simple that you can throw the ingredients together in a few minutes at night, do nothing with it for 12-18 hours, then wake up and bake it to perfection in about an hour. As the title suggests, you don't have to knead it. You simply mix flour, salt, water, and yeast into a bowl and cover it with a towel. You need some kind of covered dish in which to bake it. This could be a Dutch oven or a covered Pyrex casserole dish from the 1970's (what I use) or an oven-safe pot with a lid. Anything that retains heat and traps steam inside will allow the loaf to form that wonderfully crusty exterior that will make people think you are a true master of the loaf. 

You can find hundreds of variations on this recipe on the internet, but I like to share this one by Janet Barton because the long FAQ she includes is extremely useful for people who are learning to bake bread. 

A few tips for baking this bread and basically any other yeast loaf:

Activate your yeast. Even though most recipes don't call for this step, I like to throw my yeast into a little bowl with a cup of lukewarm water and a tiny bit of sugar (less than a teaspoon) and let it sit on the counter for ten minutes before I do anything. The yeast will get all bubbly and then I know it's alive and my bread will rise.

Keep it warm. Yeast doesn't work in environments that are too hot or too cold, so find a nice cozy spot in your kitchen for the dough to proof and yell at your family if they leave the back door open and create a draft. Likewise, don't use hot water or let your dough sit by a heat source. Follow the goldilocks principle.

Break the rules. Baking bread does not require the same strict precision as baking things like cakes or cookies. In fact, sticking dogmatically to the recipe can often result in a less desirable loaf because things like the type of flour you use or the humidity in your kitchen or the phase of the moon (probably) can make your dough unexpectedly too wet or too dry. Pay attention to the description of the dough's consistency in the recipe. Don't be afraid to add a bit more flour if the author says the dough should stop sticking to the bowl, but it's sticking to your fingers and every surface in your kitchen.

Follow the rules. I know I just said it’s okay to break them. But when it comes to the ingredients you’re using, make sure you’re either putting in what the recipe calls for, or you know how to compensate for the difference a substitution will make. If your recipe calls for all-purpose flour, you can’t substitute it completely with whole wheat flour and get a good result. I have a relative who tries this all the time because she wants to make it healthy, and then complains that her bread is tough. Look for a recipe using whole wheat flour instead, or do a little research to figure out how much you can substitute before the consistency of your loaf is affected.

Let it rise. Yeast needs time to do its thing, so it's important that you let it rise long enough. If the recipe says to let it rise for 90 minutes or until it has doubled in size, check it at 90 minutes but leave it for as long as it takes to actually double. For a No-Knead loaf, the extremely long rise is what allows you to skip kneading. I have baked it after 8 hours when I'm impatient, but the flavor and texture improves up to the 18 hour point. If the recipe calls for you to let the dough rest for ten minutes before you start kneading, listen to it. The dough will become more elastic as it rests and your hands or your stand mixer will thank you.

Preheat the oven. For No-Knead loaves, you have to heat the vessel in which you'll be cooking the dough for 30 minutes before you even start baking. But you should always make sure your oven comes all the way to temperature before you throw that baby in there. A lot of expansion is created as the water in the dough turns into steam. If your oven isn't hot enough, your loaf will suffer for it.

Use enough salt. A lot of bread recipes involve very few ingredients, which means that every single one of them is incredibly important! Don't skimp on the salt. If you have flaky sea salt or kosher salt, use that instead of table salt. It's delicious.

Let it cool. I know you want to slice into that bad boy and eat it the second it's done, but bread continues to develop texture and flavor even after you remove it from the oven. Give it at least an hour to cool when it's done if you're not willing to wait for it to come to room temperature. Threaten to stab your family with the bread knife if they don't leave it alone until it's ready. Revel in your newfound power as master of the loaf.

[heartofsnark]

Cooking with Tsuneko (Custom MC) Headcanons

Notes: This was a Ko-fi request by @otomemonogatari , she specifically wanted Tsuneko and Mamoru cooking together, but for the sake of headcanon format and ‘cause I thought it’d be fun, I decided to do them all. If you don’t know Tsuneko is my mc in my series Black Market Wonderland. She is my baby and I adore her. And if you’re not reading that series and like her character here, why not give it a chance…..?

Also, I’m still getting a feel for writing Luke and Shuichi, they aren’t in the fic at this point and I haven’t written much for them. So, if it sucks I apologize. Also, no Hikaru cause I haven’t played him yet and I have no how he’d interact with Tsuneko at this point. So. 

Eisuke and Tsuneko can surprisingly work pretty well together, when they want to, they just usually do not want to. They’re both similar in a lot of ways, not that either of them would ever admit this fact. They’re both perfectionist and efficient workers, there will be a lot of snide comments along the way though. Tsuneko and Eisuke cooking together would start with her giving him shit. 

“Can you even cook? I mean, you’ve probably had chefs your whole life, so I doubt you can.” 

“There’s nothing I can’t do.”

“You can’t pet cats or eat peas, but go off my dude.” 

He’s scowling as he makes his way over to the kitchen where Tsuneko is, she’s grinning that it worked. Eisuke washes his hands and ties a white apron over his expensive designer clothes. She’s snickering at how stupid it looks, she’d try to hide it, but she doesn’t care if she hurts his feelings. 

“I’ll sift the cake flour, you get the parchment paper and pan ready; trace the pan on the parchment paper, cut it out then grease the paper and pan.” 

“Because you can’t draw or cut straight.” 

“Draw on the fucking paper.” 

Once she’s sifted through the cake flour enough, she looks over to see Eisuke has finished greasing the pan with shortening, glaring at what sticks to his fingers, like it’s personally offended him. 

“It’s not gonna apologize to you.” 

His glare switches to her and he wipes his hand off on the apron. It continues to go well, both taking tasks and easily able to follow directions, though neither misses a chance to make a snide comment. 

By the end of it the two perfectionists have crafted a downright beautiful looking strawberry sponge cake. They then proceed to destroy it fighting over the strawberry on top. This is why we can’t have nice things. 

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“Why don’t you just learn to make your own omelets?” 

The look of concern on Soryu’s face makes Tsuneko laugh. She just figures it’s a practical skill, everyone should know how to cook for themselves and rolled omelets aren’t that hard. Soryu isn’t a stupid guy, so, what’s the worst that can happen?

He looks beyond awkward and clumsy as he ties on an apron. Tsuneko is trying her best not to snicker; he’s a complete fish out of water. 

“First, we just need to crack some eggs, very simple,” she says as she cracks one of the eggs into the bowl then gestures at the rest of them. 

Soryu reluctantly grabs an egg; he cracks it and promptly drops about half the shell into the bowl. She stifles a laugh as he awkwardly apologizes and picks out the shell. His cheeks are tinted red and a part of her feels bad, but not enough to stop her from insisting he cracks another. 

He tries to crack it against the counter before dropping the egg into the bowl, maybe he thinks it’ll help. Instead, the egg falls onto the counter instead. She bursts into laughter and his face turns about three shades darker of red.  She takes care of cracking the rest then adding in the mirin, soy sauce, and salt. 

“Okay,” she brushes oil over the pan and pours about a third of the eggs in, “now just let that cook about a minute then we’ll roll it, ‘kay?” 

Soryu takes over the pan while Tsuneko goes to get the spatula; her back is turned for a second before she hear Soryu yell. The kitchen is suddenly hotter. 

She turns around to see flames shooting up from the pan, Soryu’s hand thrown up in defeat as he backs away. Tsuneko grabs a pan lid and covers it, smothering the fire. 

“What the actual fuck happened?!” 

“I don’t know.” 

“My back was turned for less than a second.” 

“This always happens or it explodes.”

“Explodes?!”

Soryu awkwardly scratches the back of his head, cheeks red and avoiding eye contact. 

“You know what, how about you just go read,” she offers, taking off the lid to look at the burnt egg remains. 

He nods in understanding before making a beeline out of the kitchen. 

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Cooking with Baba, did you mean an hour of him flirting with her and then there’s food at the end? 

They’re both good cooks, Baba more so than Tsuneko. In true gentleman fashion, he keeps offering to do some of the more manual stuff for Tsuneko which while sweet can also be irksome.  

“Want me to dice those tomatoes for you, pretty lady?” 

“Don’t annoy me when I have a knife.” 

It’s also worth noting that Baba tends to just know how to cook, he doesn’t need to recheck or look over recipes. This does nothing but stress Tsuneko out as she is someone who triple checks what to do next before she does it. 

“Now to add in the peppers and shallots.” 

“Wait, let me double check, we might need to do,” Baba is already adding them in as she checks the recipe, “and that’s exactly the next step, how do you do that?” 

“Have I managed to impress you?” 

“If I say yes, will you stop winking at me, you fucking weirdo.”

Eventually, the dish comes out virtually perfect and mouth wateringly good. 

“Made with love.” 

“Don’t make me puke.” 

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Ota was not invited into the kitchen, he just showed up, to the absolute dismay of Tsuneko. Being the grade A little shit that Ota is, he just continuously gets in the way and annoys her.  It’s a constant battle of her batting his hands away from throwing random things into the batter. 

“No, the cookies do not need tomatoes.” 

“Don’t be boring, Koro.” 

“Mustard is not a part of the recipe!” 

“It might be good, you don’t know.” 

“I most certainly do know.” 

“I swear to fuck, if you put one pickle in there I’m smothering you!” 

It’s a constant struggle of smacking away his gremlin hands and making sure he’s not ruining something. The process of making cookies takes about an hour longer than necessary thanks to Ota’s shenanigans. 

Then comes time to decorate them, Tsuneko is suddenly out of her league. 

“What is that?” 

“Depends….what does it look like?” 

“That’s not how that works, Koro.” 

“It’s…supposed to be a bunny…”

“Pfffft, it looks like a sick plant.”

“Shut up, what did you make, art boy?” 

“Look, I drew you.” 

The frosting decoration on the cookie is a floppy eared dog and she promptly smacks it out of his hand. 

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“Are you gonna help?”  She asks as Mamoru is loitering around the kitchen and grazing, instead of making himself useful. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he grumbles as he starts to pop something in his mouth, she smacks his chest, not that it stops him.

“Either help or leave.” 

“Ugh, I’ll try not to get in the way.” 

She rolls her eyes, not quite sure why he isn’t just leaving. He expects her to cook him food, but won’t leave so she can do so in peace, maybe he just likes being an irritant. 

“Wash your hands and you’ll need an apron.” 

“Why do I need an apron?” He grumbles, half-assedly washing his hands. 

“Actually wash them, don’t just run water over them, you gross fuck.” 

She squirts soap over his hands and then goes to find an apron. There’s a couple aprons tucked away in her kitchen, there’s a few that are plain and more that are cutesy.  She decides on a pink ruffly My Melody apron, he wants to be an irritant; she’ll be one right back. 

“There, my hands are- what is that?” 

“An apron.” She tries to keep her tone even, but the way his eyes widen at the apron cracks her up.

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“Seriously, it’s just an apron, so you don’t stain your clothes.” 

“I don’t care that much about these clothes.” 

“That’s like, your one suit that doesn’t have stains, wear the apron.’ 

“Why does it have to be that one?” He glares at it like the pink ruffles have personally hurt him. 

“It’s the only other apron I have.”

“Why can I wear that one?” He points at the apron she’s wearing, dark blue with just a simple black cat, Jiji, peeking out of the pocket. 

“I’m wearing it.” 

“This is ridiculous, I don’t even wanna cook-”

“Too late, put on the apron.” 

He groans and rubs a hand over his face. 

“C’mon, I’m literally the only person who’ll see it; your masculinity can’t be that fragile.” 

Another groan and he yanks the apron from her hands, tying it on. She presses a hand to her mouth and sputters out a laugh; the feminine apron looks so goofy against his gray rumpled suit. 

“Shut up, brat.” 

“Okay, now would you strain the noodles for me,” she finally manages to get focused after a few more giggles at his expense. 

“Fine,” Mamoru grabs the pot by the handles and carries it to the sink with the strainer to pour, “FUCK!”

The pot clatters and topples over, splashing boiling water over Mamoru. 

“Shit, quick!” She grabs turns on the faucet and runs cold water, getting Mamoru’s hands under it. 

“How did you even manage to drop that?” she chastises as Mamoru groans in pain as the water cools his red skin. 

“I don’t know, just happened, fuck.” 

“Come on, the food can wait.” 

Tsuneko gets a cold compress, burn ointment, and bandaids before leading him to the couch. She gently rubs the ointment over his burned skin, earning winces and whines from him. Once that’s done, she carefully places some pink bandaids with My Melody on them over his blisters. 

“They match your apron,” she teases. 

“Haha, hilarious,” he grumbles as she puts the cold compress on his hand. 

“I had no idea you were so accident prone, maybe we should keep you out of the kitchen.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

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Rhion would be so excited to help Tsuneko in the kitchen, but his eagerness doesn’t translate to being skilled at cooking. Thankfully, while a disaster on his own, he follows Tsuneko’s directions well enough to avoid absolute catastrophe.  Though, Tsuneko babies him a bit, not letting him take over the more dangerous or important things. 

“Add in a cup of flour.”

“Got it!” 

“A pinch of nutmeg.” 

“Done!” 

“I’ll take care of the mincing and the oven.” 

He nods in understanding, humming along to the radio as they cook. Occasionally, when there’s a wait time he spins and twirls to the music. He’ll pull at Tsuneko’s hand and try to convince her to dance along. 

“No way, not happening.” 

“Coooooome on Alice,” he says with a pout. 

“Even your puppy dog eyes can’t make me dance, sweetie.” 

He whines when she pinches at his cheek, before continuing his antics. She watches and laughs each time he nearly falls over. 

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Tsuneko groans, a pain going through her hand. She’s trying to chop up chicken and vegetables to cook. 

“What’s wrong Sexy Bones?” 

“Holy fuck,” Tsuneko practically jumps out of her skin and turns to see Luke suddenly looming over her shoulder, “we need to put a bell on you or something.” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Oh, I fell and hurt my hand earlier, so it’s hard to cut everything up.” 

“You should relax it.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to cook.” 

Luke steps towards the counter, blocking Tsuneko from moving back towards it. He produces a scalpel from his pocket then uses it to quickly and efficiently cut everything up. It can’t take him more than a minute or two. 

“Is that all you needed cut, Sexy Bones?” 

“Uhhh, yeah, thanks.” 

The eccentric doctor wanders off, properly to read some medical text book and Tsuneko is left confused but thankful. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shuichi has a tendency to micro-manage and Tsuneko has a tendency to hate that. While they both do well following instructions or recipe to absolute perfection, Shuichi tends to be more prone to breathing down someone’s neck. 

“Do you think you’re chopping that thin enough?”

“The pieces are practically see through.” 

“Did you preheat the oven to the right temperature?” 

“Check it yourself, if you don’t believe me.” 

“You managed to do it right.” 

“Yes, I’ve been cooking for years and I’m also capable of following basic instructions.” 

“I wasn’t aware.” 

“I’m this close,” she nearly presses her fingers together, “to stabbing you.” 

“This is basic supervising, if you can’t handle someone looking over your work, that’s not my fault.” 

“Firstly, this isn’t work, you aren’t paying me. Secondly, you’re not just looking over it, you’re micro-managing. No one would put up with this.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Fine, let’s see how you like it, you take over the rest of the sides and I’ll supervise.” 

“Fine.” 

“I don’t think you chopped that enough.”

“Are you sure you added enough sugar?” 

“Maybe you should stir that more.” 

She continues nagging him the same exact way he did to her, looking for any chance to criticize or correct him.  He stays calm mostly, just giving an annoyed sigh. 

“Did you spray that with nonstick stuff?”

“You just saw me do that,” he finally snaps and glares at her. 

“Awww, do you not like having someone breathing down your neck.” 

“Fine, I understand, I’ll relax.” 

“About damn time.” 

~Did you like this set of headcanons? Wanna request something similar? Just wanna support me? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi!~

[klaussstilinski]

Chapter 1

AN: Okay I'm so sorry for the long wait I've been dealing with some shit, but I'm here to deliver. Also sorry for the long chapter I got a bit carried away. Please comment, love, reblog the whole shebang and don’t forget to give me some feedback. I really hope you enjoy. With all the love and kisses here is chapter one! Didn’t proofread either it’s getting late and i still have to pack for a trip tomorrow, so forgive my errors!

Disclaimer: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING ABOUT THE SHOW, JUST MY CHARACTERS DAISY, JACKIE, AND MADELINE. Also, I did use some dialogue form the show and also switched some up!

Words: 2,700+ (Sorry once again)

Icing. Icing. Icing. I need more icing. Damn it. Glancing up at the clock it read 4:37. I was supposed to be gone by 4, Monse was finally back from writing camp and we were supposed to go shopping tonight. But instead I'm here crumb coating a wedding cake.  

“Jackie can you bring me the other tub?” Throwing the spatula down and wiping my hands on my yellow floral apron.

“Tub of?”

“TuB oF...” Rolling my eyes. “Tub of ICING Jackie, tub of icing. Preferably the royal please.” Huffing Jackie drops down into a squat on the other side of the kitchen and grabs a tub.

“Thank you!” Continuing the crumb coating I happen to doze off again and of course a special person comes to mind. Oscar. He’s back. They released him 4 months early, and of course the first thing he does is drag Cesar into the Santos. Which I guess is a good thing since that’ll keep him protected from the prophet$, and from me. Ever since I found out that he told everyone about him and Monse I've been out for his head. He knows to stay away from me and apparently Jamal and Ruby feel the same way. I’m worried about how Monse is going to handle everything when she finds out he blabbering.

“Okay, off you go to chill my little child.” I whisper carefully putting the cake into the fridge to set overnight. Glancing up at the clock it now reads 5:15. Walking over to the wall, closest to the entry way to the front of the bakery, I hang up my apron then start to clean up my mess.

Walking into the kitchen Jackie comes to help me with the dirty appliances and utensils. “So, I locked the front door, moped, counted the register, and took up what was left of the éclairs and macarons and put them into the purple box.”

“You are a life saver. Also, I'm sorry for being such a bitch earlier I'm...” Clenching my jaw and scrubbing a little harder at the poor bowl. “Just a little stressed right now.”

“I know...does it have anything to do with some of the Santos coming in and asking for you earlier?”

“Wait what?” Stopping and looking at her with wide eyes. “When did this happen?”

“Daisy...” Jackie said very slowly, as if she was talking to a child. “Wednesday they came in here and asked for you, I told you this remember?” Shaking my head, she continued. “Well they claimed they just wanted to check on you and when I asked for what they told me it was none of my business and then proceeded to sample, then buy might I add, some of my delicious Mississippi mud cupcakes!”  

“Huh it must’ve slipped my mind.” As I finished drying out the rest of the bowls, I remembered what she said. “They bought some of your cupcakes? What the hell this is big news, most people try to avoid your cupcakes-ow that hurt!” I exclaimed rubbing my arm.  

“People don’t avoid them they’re just cautious because they’ve never seen some that looked so exciting and enticing.” Hanging up her apron she grabbed our bags and my car keys. Grabbing them from her I lead us to the side door where I set the alarm and quickly rushed her out the door.

“You know many people think you spent your inheritance money to get this beauty.” Smiling I look at my new red 2018 Chevy cruze. Of course, I knew that people thought that, but only people that I wanted to know, knew the truth. I give Jackie rides to work every day since she lives on the route, I take every day. On the way home I decide to stop by Monse’s to see if she's home.

“If you’re looking for Monse you just missed her. She decided to walk to the orientation with the boys.” Dad said answering the door.  

“Maybe I came to see you.” Judgmental eyes followed me as I walked into the house I grew up in. “Fine I came to see Monse...how are you? When did you get back?”

“I’m doing, I got back Monday. Figured I could be home for Monse on her first day of high school.” He responded walking past me into the kitchen, “Want something to drink?”

“No, I'm fine, I actually have to get going. I’m taking Monse out to dinner tonight.”  

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” Shocked I sharply turned my head towards him.

“I...I um should really get going.” I need to leave before he notices my bottom lip trembling.

“Okay I’ll call you before I leave again Daisy.”

Walking out the door I rush to the car and rush home to take a shower. He hasn’t told me that in years. Of course I love him, he’s my father but he hasn’t exactly been present in my life. The last time I saw him was for my 13th birthday right before I left to go live with mama. But I also don’t hold any kind of resentment towards him. Fresh out the shower I wrap a towel around my hair and body, and go on the hunt for my phone to call Monse.

“Finally, you decide to pick up. This is my second time calling you!”  

“Sorry I’m kind of in a situation with the crew. Can we, I don’t know, rain check for dinner tonight?”

“No!” I say stomping my foot. “I’ve had this planned ever since you first left. I want to spend time with my little sister. Leave the boys to figure whatever was going on out by themselves.”  

“Okay, okay fine. I’ll head home and get ready.” Sighing I reach for my tribal print top and black jeans.  

“Be ready in 30 minutes, love you.”

“Love you too.”  

Taking the towel off my head I turn to the mirror and gasp.

“Damn Daisy you need a trim.” Running my fingers through my hair I detangle it, then grab a little hair from the front, braid it and pin it around the side of my head, and proceeded to do the same to the other side. Next, I lather myself with lotion while my hair air dries, and then get ready. Twirling around in the mirror I admire myself, what a sight to behold.  

“Keys, wallet, phone, coat.” I check as I walk out the door. “Lock the door you fool!” Laughing I turnaround and run back to the door.  

“So how was camp?”  I ask Monse handing my menu back to the waiter.

“It was mildly life changing.” Smiling she reaches for her water.  

“I can see that.” Laughing as she blushes and looks away. “Monse you hit puberty there is nothing wrong with that. You’re just growing up...too fast.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Monse questioned me.  

Turning my head and squinting my eyes I studied her. Her hair has grown just from the little bit of time she's been gone. Her braces are finally off, she’s more confident, outspoken.  

“It means you’re unapologetically you, Monse. You’ve experienced things no 14 year old should. You’re brutally honest, have no filter, headstrong, determined, and much, much more. You only had dad growing up and I know how hard that was and is for you.” Reaching across the table she grabs my hand. “I wish I would’ve been there more for you. But I promise to you Monse, I will be here from now on. Anytime you need to call me or just need me, I'll be here.”

“I know.” Smiling she looked me in my eyes, “I love you too!” Dinner went on to be high-spirited and energetic. On the way back home, she decides to call Ruby and Jamal and from there all hell breaks loose.

“So, what exactly was the context when Cesar said Monse let him “hit it”?”  

“He didn’t say he “hit it” he said he “smashed, really hard”.” Ruby replied. “But who cares about context.

“I care!” Glancing over at Monse I notice a vein about to pop on her forehead.

“Dude you can't keep one secret.”

“Dude she was blackmailing me, so I had to give!” Jamal whimpered.

“Why is he whispering?” A confused stare was thrown my way. “Ruby!” I clarified.

“Ruby, where are you?”

“Hell. Look I'm dealing with some b.s. of my own right now, so we will deal with this another time.”  

“He hung up on me.” Monse gasped. “Well I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then.” Getting out of the car she practically ran into the house. Last thing I noticed as I pulled off was dad’s truck was gone. So much for staying until her first day of high school, huh? As I pull into my driveway, I finally let my body relax and realized just how tired I truly was! My bed and a glass or 2 of wine was calling my name.

“You’re late!” Madeline yells as I come running through the door the next morning. I overslept by 30 minutes.

“I know I'm sorry, I forgot to set my alarm. I don’t usually work on Saturdays so it just caught me off guard.” Putting my things in the cubbies I put my hair up, wash my hands, and put on my apron. Walking over to the fridge I take the cake out and get back to work. Putting on the last layer of icing and putting it away to set in the fridge again.

“What do you want me to fix now?”  

“Um at this point you can fix anything you want to fix Daisy. It’s Saturday, plus everyone loves your treats.” Side eyeing Jackie she giggles.

“I heard that!” Jackie laughs. “Just fix your famous, to-die-for crepe cake!” Nodding I walk away head for the pantry. I haven't fixed that in a few months. Butter, flour, milk, eggs, sugar, and food coloring. As I set the ingredients down, I notice a purple box sitting to the side. I forgot the sweets last night. Those were for the crew, groaning I snatch the box up and walk over to the cubbies and set it on top of my sweater. Okay now focus Daisy it’s time to get your crepe cake assembled. Ha assembled...avengers assemble.  

3 O’clock. I dance around the kitchen putting things away and singing knowing that I was off the next few days.

“Before you go literally bouncing your butt out the door, I wanna ask you something?” Turning around still dancing I wave my hand in a way to tell her to ask away.

“Have you been dealing with the Santos again?” Freezing I look at Madeline to see that she's gone all serious on me.

“Do you honestly thing I'm that dumb?” She goes to answer. “Never mind don’t answer that, no I haven't. If you’re wondering about earlier this week, I don’t know why they came by here. My only guess is that Spooky sent them out to check up on me.” I answer honestly.

“I thought you haven't talked to him.”

“I haven't, I've been avoiding him like the plague. He’s always been like that. Years ago, when I was still here, he would send a few homies over to check on me, but that was when we were...you know.” Waving my hands around. “Trust me I plan to steer clear of him as long as I can!”

“I believe you, just wanted to know if you knew about them coming up in here.” Sighing she continues. “Alright get your stuff and go my angel, you’ve done enough today. Stay safe love you.” She kisses my cheek and quickly shoos me out the door. Walking to my car my phone bings with a message alert. Unlocking the car I put my belongings in the back seat and peel out of Southern Belle’s Bakery parking lot.

‘Meet us at Cesar's someone’s gonna die!!! -Jamal’

Racing to Cesar’s I manage to dodge a police officer, dog and a few pedestrians. The only thing I can think of is if the kids are safe. Coming to a skidding stop I jump out and run towards the commotion that’s going on in the front yard.

“I had your back, and for what? For you to impress your puto friends and humiliate me?” I hear and see Monse throwing punches, to who I can safely assume Is Cesar, as I push my way through the crowd.  

“Hermanito you better back up before you get smacked up.” Oscar calmly says.

“Monse!” I shout causing most of the people around me stop and all look at me. “Stop!” As I'm pulling Monse off Cesar I see Ruby and Jamal making their way through and back up to let them get her.

“It’s not worth it Monse.” Ruby utters pulling her away as the Santos start to bark.

“Shut the hell up.” I say as I turn around to face Oscar. He slowly puts the cigarette out and walks up to me. Staring him in the eyes he takes one good look at me and smirks. HE. FUCKING. SMIRKS.

“Long time no see Daisy.”  

“I tried to keep it that way, if only it would’ve been forever.” The homies laugh and now it’s my turn to smirk. He looks over his shoulder and gets quite once again.

“Don’t try that, you know how that end.” He whispers.

“Tell your boys to stay away from me and my friends and this will quickly end.” Shaking his head, he looks down. “Stay away from me Oscar, I want nothing to do with you!”

“You weren’t always saying that.” Laughs could be heard again. Stepping from in front of Spooky, I popped out my hip and crossed my arms. Ah quite. “I see you can still control my boys.”

Whipping around I turn to Spooky again. “That was then this is now! I mean it stay away.” Walking towards Monse I come to the realization that she’s been talking shit to Ruby and Jamal.

“Get in the car Monse, now!” Butting in her rant as I walk past her. As I’m about to step off the sidewalk I hear his voice.

“Still looking good as ever Sinclaire!” Giving him the finger, I get in the car and drive Monse home with the music turned all the way down. Looking over I see her playing with my tassel hanging from the rear view mirror.

“You know you’re going to regret telling them whatever you said back there, right?”

“I already do, I was just heated and they kept pissing me off. Do you think they’ll forgive me?” Monse sighed throwing herself pack into the seat.  

“Of course they will. Y’all have been together since elementary school, you can get through anything. Just apologize and boom, magic, best friends all over again.” I tsked, “But Cesar, I really think you should take some time to contemplate about that one. That’s some serious shit he’s been talking about.”

“I know, thank you for not saying anything to dad.”

“Hey I told you, your secret is safe with me,” Unbuckling herself she reaches for the door handle. “Make sure to lock the doors and windows, I don’t want any creeps getting in!”

“Okay dad!” Laughing as she steps out of the car. “And um good luck with the whole Oscar situation.”

“What?” Looking at her with wide eyes as I hold my neck. Damn whiplash.

“I heard what he said and how he looked at you, just promise me you'll be safe.”  

“Scouts honor!” I saluted, she saluted back then closed my door. I pull off once she's inside the house and slowly think about how my life had changed over the last 24 hours. I go from celebrating Monse’s welcome home, to messing up on the first crepe cake, but then having it be a success, getting off early, getting the news that I get a few days off for myself, getting a weird message which was a bit much, leave it to Jamal, to running into Oscar. Honestly can my day get any worse? I definitely need a hot bubble bath tonight. As I'm pulling to the driveway, too much deja vu lately, I can't help but to feel like I'm forgetting something. Pulling open the back door I almost slam it back shut out of pure anger.

“I forgot about the damn éclairs and macarons again!”

Tag: @izraahh1 @shesbriaanayy @aka-eb @mbaku-babygirl @yxseminx

[fallforcs]

Sugar Rush

Art by: @nicole-nikla

Author:  @athenascarlet

Summary: Emma Swan loves making ice cream – as long as her daily deliveries avoid Killian Jones and his cupcakes as much as possible. She doubts this is going to be the season for her to change her mind about the infuriatingly attractive and frustratingly talented owner of The Jolly Cupcake. But as the leaves change in the fall, is it possible her feelings could also morph into something else?

Rating: T

——

“Emma! Delivery is ready!”

Emma wiped her ice creamed hands on her apron and headed to the back of the store where Ingrid was standing in their kitchen, filling up a cooler with gallons of ice cream. She pulled off the apron and hung it on a nearby hook.

“How did the batches turn out?”

“Amazing, as usual,” Ingrid told her. “I really think your apple cider ice cream will be a hit.”

“I hope so,” she replied. “As long as we don’t get apples from the mayor’s tree, we’ll be fine.”

Ingrid gave her a teasing smile. “You act like they’re poisoned.”

Emma shrugged. “They might be. You never know.”

She was sure they probably weren’t, but the mayor was definitely more sour than sweet so she wasn’t about to test her theory.

Emma threw on her red leather coat and grabbed the cooler from the counter. “Granny’s first, right?”

“Yep! Tell her I said hi!”

Emma nodded and headed out the front door of Any Given Sundae to Granny’s Diner. She always loved walking down Storybrooke’s Main St. at this time of year. After two years here, she finally could call it home, which was something that still caught her off guard at times.

When she was younger, Ingrid had been her foster mother, caring for her as a teenager. But as with most teenagers, Emma had a problem with authority and ran away from Ingrid’s home. She went out on her own, eventually tracking down bail jumpers to make ends meet. It was fine until one in particular busted her arm. She still got her bounty but decided it may be a good time to try something different, and since she was so good at finding people, she decided to find Ingrid.

Her former foster mother had moved to a small town in Maine and opened a store specializing in homemade ice cream made on site. At first, she seemed surprised to see Emma, but quickly gave her a smile and a hug. The next thing Emma knew she was whipping up cream and sugar and whatever else Ingrid had decided to try for customers.

The store sold ice cream staples: chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream. But it was really known for its more unusual or fun flavors, which brought people in from all over Maine. They were one of the first stores in the state to make cake batter ice cream from scratch, and Emma’s frozen hot chocolate ice cream was a favorite. She often encouraged customers to add a little shake of cinnamon from their toppings bar.

This month, Ingrid had encouraged Emma to come up with some good fall flavors. She whipped up the perfect batches of pumpkin spice ice cream and candied pecan ice cream. She also found some amazing apples at the local orchard and used them to create an amazing apple cider ice cream. It was just like drinking the real thing.

“This is the best one you’ve ever made,” Ingrid said when Emma finally let her try the recipe.

They quickly sold out of the first few batches, including a few gallons that Granny ordered for the diner.

Granny was one of their best customers, always putting in an order for gallons of vanilla ice cream to go along with her pies. The unique flavors were also a hit with customers who got a scoop included as part of the dinner special.

Emma’s feet crunched on the dry leaves in Granny’s courtyard, which made her smile. She swung the door open and walked in, taking a quick look at what the miners sitting at the counter were eating for lunch. Lots of lasagna, a few grilled cheeses, and Leroy’s heaping bowl of orange sherbert. He was definitely their best customer.

She headed back to the kitchen window where Granny was placing orders with the kitchen staff.

“Thank God you’re here,” she told Emma. “We just ran out of vanilla. I thought a cupcake/ice cream combo would be a hit, but it was way too popular at lunch today.”

Emma gave her a perplexed look. “What kind of combo?” she asked.

“Delicious cupcakes with ice cream, Swan! In fact, I’m here to drop off a new batch myself.”

Emma scowled. She recognized that voice and was not surprised when she turned to see its owner leaning against the counter with a smug grin on his face next to Granny’s cake plate stocked full of cupcakes.

Killian Jones.

She had no idea why the cupcake store owner insisted on wearing all black. It seemed so impractical for a cake maker who was constantly around flour and sugar, but he made it look effortless. Emma was always picking sugar out of her hair or cleaning spilled cream off her clothes. His clothes were immaculate and made her mouth water.

She would never tell him that second part. Because honestly, everyone knew that man was gorgeous. But not everyone recognized the feud there was between Any Given Sundae and The Jolly Cupcake. Hell, even Ingrid thought Emma’s belief that The Jolly Cupcake was a rival was overblown.

“Sweet treats can co-exist in this town,” Ingrid once told her. “I don’t know why you have such a grudge against one of them.”

Because one of them was run by an infuriating man. He was gorgeous and successful and, dammit, his cupcakes were amazing. His flavors were special and perfectly balanced between the cake and the icing. It was annoying.

He was annoying.

Emma gave the smiling baker a once over and sighed. “Jones.”

“What did you bring with you today, Swan?” He swaggered over and pushed into her personal space. “I do hope it’s deletable.”

Emma just rolled her eyes. “Of course, it is. I made it.” Her eyes darted over to the cake plate on the counter. “What about you?”

“Delightful as always,” he said with a wicked smile. “Would you like to try a maple brown sugar cupcake? Or perhaps a dark chocolate one with cinnamon icing? I hear it’s a favorite of yours.”

Emma’s mouth was watering from the cupcakes and Killian’s voice was heating up other parts of her body. Dammit, why did a rival who pressed her buttons have to be so delicious as he did it?

“They sound fine.”

Emma grabbed the empty cooler sitting in the pick-up window from the kitchen and started to head out.

“I thought we were sharing, lass?” Killian asked as she walked by. “What new concoction did you whip up?”

“Ice cream,” she yelled back.

“Sounds tasty! I can’t wait to lick it up!”

Emma was thankful to hear the door close behind her as she pushed her way into the chilled fall day outside. She needed a little air to cool off after that meeting with Killian.

Of course, she was going to go back to Granny’s and try that chocolate cupcake with cinnamon icing. What kind of person wouldn’t want that? But there was no way in hell she was ever going to tell Killian she did it. Just like there was no way she was ever going to tell him about her taste tests of several other flavors she quietly snuck out of Granny’s Diner over the past few months. It would be better to not inflate his ego anymore than it already was.

xxx

Apparently, today was not Emma’s day. As soon as she got back to the store, Ingrid sent her out on another ice cream run, this time to Hansel and Gretel’s candy shop. She had no problem with the brother-and-sister duo, probably because neither of them was as infuriatingly attractive as Killian Jones.

Which is why she was so frustrated when she ran into him – literally – as she was leaving the candy shop.

“Careful with the cupcakes, Swan. You wouldn’t want to smash my treats.” He leaned in and gave her a wicked grin. “Or perhaps you would.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Infuriating.

(Also, she wouldn’t mind smashing his treats. Also, that made her frustrated. Again.)

But there was one place where she could really throw him off his game: The Rabbit Hole.

Emma smiled as the bar’s owner, Liam Jones, poured his creamy concoction into two glasses, adding straws to both of them.

“OK, let me know what you think of that,” he said as he grabbed his own off the bar.

It only took a few sips before Emma moaned in delight. “This is amazing, Liam.”

“Hey!”

Emma smiled. Once again, she recognized the voice. “Hey, Killian. What’s up?”

He put down a large white baker’s box on the bar and pulled the bar stool out from right next to her. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, Swan. What are you doing here?”

“Just drinking.”

Her lips curled dramatically around the straw again and she took another drink. She could tell it had the effect she wanted on Killian. His eyes trailed down to her mouth, his jaw did that thing where he flexed it whenever he was tense. She could play this game all night.

“Here, try this, brother.”

Liam put a glass down in front of Killian and poured some more of his experiment into it. Killian gave the glass an odd look and then did as he was told, his long lashes fluttering shut as he drank.

“Bloody hell,” he finally said. “What is that?”

“An apple pie. It’s apple cider ice cream from Any Given Sundae mixed with vanilla vodka. It’s great, right?”

Killian’s ecstacy turned into a scowl as he looked at Emma. “Are you turning my brother against me now?”

She just shrugged. “I saw a business opportunity.”

She leaned over and drank more, keeping her eyes focused on Killian as his did that thing where they lingered on her lips again. Was this really what their relationship had come to? Trading jabs over ice cream cocktails at a bar?

And yet, after the day Emma had, she didn’t mind it. She liked teasing him like this. In fact, she liked alot of things about him. She liked the way he responded to her teasing. She liked the way he smiled at her comebacks. She was definitely impressed with how he looked in that black outfit of his, no matter how infuriating it was that he could keep it so clean.

Killian finally cleared his throat to gain some composure. “Well, if you want to talk business, Swan.”

He gave her one his trademark eyebrow raises and reached over to the box next to him. He lifted the lid just high enough for Emma to see all the cupcakes inside. They all looked amazing. Killian’s decorating skills were ridiculous. Then he set a dark cupcake down in front of her.

“Winter ale cupcake with a stout frosting. Tell me what you think.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically.

He seemed undeterred, giving her a warm smile in return. “Go ahead, and be brutally honest. I know you won’t hold back.”

“And not to sway you one way or another,” Liam said. “But we sold out of yesterday’s batch in an hour.”

She looked at the bartender, who simply smiled and grabbed the box of cupcakes off the bar and took them to the back. Emma turned to the cupcake, pulling the wrapper down to expose the moist cake inside. It looked amazing – fluffy and light with just the right amount of frosting. Some cupcake makers added too much frosting, but Killian had a knack for getting the right balance. Dammit again, it was so annoying that he was so good at this. And he opened the shop only six months ago! Crazy prodigy baker always dressed in black.

She stared at the cupcake a bit longer and then finally took a bite. Damn, it was good. Great flavors that weren’t overwhelming. The frosting and cake complimenting each other so well. If she wasn’t being watched, she would’ve quickly stuffed the rest of it in her mouth at once.

But she was being watched. She couldn’t see his eyes – she was still staring at the cupcake. But she could feel his glare. He was anticipating her response. Because for as much as they teased each other, as much as they were at odds – whether true or exaggerated – there was a mutual respect between them when it came to their crafts. Emma could give him some snarky comment in response, or she could just tell the truth.

She looked up to see him staring at her in anticipation. She couldn’t tease him about these.

“This is amazing.”

His face broke out into a huge smile. “Be honest, Swan. Do you really like them?”

She rolled her eyes. “It pains me to say it, but I honestly do.”

“Better or worse than the chocolate with the cinnamon frosting?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Never had one of those.”

She took another bite, the cake and frosting melting together in her mouth.

“That’s a lie,” Killian teased. “Granny said you bought half a dozen from her.”

Emma stopped eating as she stared at the man next to her. She loved Granny dearly, but that woman sold her out and told Killian her secret. And yes, she had in fact bought out all of Granny’s inventory of the chocolate cupcakes with cinnamon frosting. They were delicious. So what?

“Emma, you’ve got some frosting…”

His voice trailed off as he motioned on his face to a spot near his lips. She swiped at the spot, but it only caused Killian to laugh at her more.

“Hold on, let me help.”

“This is your fault,” she said. “You put too much frosting on this one.”

He didn’t have to say anything. The disbelieving look on his face said it all.

“OK, fine. It had the right amount of frosting.”

“Thank you,” he said as he reached for her. “And for the record, your apple cider ice cream is mind blowing.”

She could only stare at him. Mind blowing? He thought her ice cream was mind blowing? Wow. That was… quite the compliment from the cupcake king.

He swiped at the frosting on her face, his fingers warm against her cheek. “There,” he said quietly.

But instead of pulling away, his hand pulled her closer, his breath against her face. Then he kissed her. It was warm and gentle and sweet. So sweet. The buttercream frosting from the cupcake mixed with the apple cider ice cream on his lips. It was like kissing a heaven full of fall flavors.

He pulled away slightly, an awkward smile teasing at the corners of his lips. “Sorry, lass. I don’t know what came over me.”

She shook her head, trying to clear out the fog that seemed to have settled over her brain. “Um, it’s OK. It’s fine. Well, more than fine. It was, uh… Well, this cupcake is pretty magical or whatever I guess.”

The tension in Killian’s shoulders disappeared, his swagger back but with a genuine warmth in his smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” He leaned over and took another drink from his apple pie cocktail. “This, by the way, is bloody amazing.”

“Do you like it?” she asked. “It was actually Liam’s idea. He came into our shop after he had some of our ice cream at Granny’s.”

“Liam has a knack for finding new flavors for the bar.”

Emma looked down at her half eaten cupcake and smiled. Maybe Liam wasn’t the only one who could try new flavors. Maybe it was time for Emma to try something new, starting with Killian Jones.

She turned to Killian and smiled. “So were the winter ale cupcakes Liam’s idea?”

“Of course,” he replied in a dejected tone. “And he hasn’t let me forget it.”

Killian started talking about Liam’s ideas for spiked egg nog cupcakes for Christmas and Irish Creme cupcakes for St. Patrick’s Day. He talked about the bad batches he still made on occasion that would crumble instead of stick together. Emma suggested maybe using the broken cupcakes in a vanilla base for a new ice cream flavor. Then she talked about the latest cake batter flavors they were trying for the ice cream with Killian giving her tips on different ways to mix the ingredients she was using.

And sometime after midnight, he walked her out to her car and kissed her again, and his lips were just as sweet as before.

[athenascarlet]

Sugar Rush

Summary: Emma Swan loves making ice cream – as long as her daily deliveries avoid Killian Jones and his cupcakes as much as possible. She doubts this is going to be the season for her to change her mind about the infuriatingly attractive and frustratingly talented owner of The Jolly Cupcake. But as the leaves change in the fall, is it possible her feelings could also morph into something else? Rating: T Notes: For @fallforcs, originally published as a blind date with a fic so you may have read it! Banner by @nicole-nikla -- thank you! If you like this, I'm also in the middle of the Captain Swan Big Bang so please catch up with Hide Your Love Away on AO3 or FF. I also have published two novels on Amazon. You can buy them here for less than the cost of a grande pumpkin spice latte (or less than a half gallon on Emma’s ice cream and one of Killian’s cupcakes).

Also on AO3 | FF

-----------------------------------

“Emma! Delivery is ready!”

Emma wiped her ice creamed hands on her apron and headed to the back of the store where Ingrid was standing in their kitchen, filling up a cooler with gallons of ice cream. She pulled off the apron and hung it on a nearby hook.

“How did the batches turn out?”

“Amazing, as usual,” Ingrid told her. “I really think your apple cider ice cream will be a hit.”

“I hope so,” she replied. “As long as we don’t get apples from the mayor’s tree, we’ll be fine.”

Ingrid gave her a teasing smile. “You act like they’re poisoned.”

Emma shrugged. “They might be. You never know.”

She was sure they probably weren’t, but the mayor was definitely more sour than sweet so she wasn’t about to test her theory.

Emma threw on her red leather coat and grabbed the cooler from the counter. “Granny’s first, right?”

“Yep! Tell her I said hi!”

Emma nodded and headed out the front door of Any Given Sundae to Granny’s Diner. She always loved walking down Storybrooke’s Main St. at this time of year. After two years here, she finally could call it home, which was something that still caught her off guard at times.

When she was younger, Ingrid had been her foster mother, caring for her as a teenager. But as with most teenagers, Emma had a problem with authority and ran away from Ingrid’s home. She went out on her own, eventually tracking down bail jumpers to make ends meet. It was fine until one in particular busted her arm. She still got her bounty but decided it may be a good time to try something different, and since she was so good at finding people, she decided to find Ingrid.

Her former foster mother had moved to a small town in Maine and opened a store specializing in homemade ice cream made on site. At first, she seemed surprised to see Emma, but quickly gave her a smile and a hug. The next thing Emma knew she was whipping up cream and sugar and whatever else Ingrid had decided to try for customers.

The store sold ice cream staples: chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream. But it was really known for its more unusual or fun flavors, which brought people in from all over Maine. They were one of the first stores in the state to make cake batter ice cream from scratch, and Emma’s frozen hot chocolate ice cream was a favorite. She often encouraged customers to add a little shake of cinnamon from their toppings bar.

This month, Ingrid had encouraged Emma to come up with some good fall flavors. She whipped up the perfect batches of pumpkin spice ice cream and candied pecan ice cream. She also found some amazing apples at the local orchard and used them to create an amazing apple cider ice cream. It was just like drinking the real thing.

“This is the best one you’ve ever made,” Ingrid said when Emma finally let her try the recipe.

They quickly sold out of the first few batches, including a few gallons that Granny ordered for the diner.

Granny was one of their best customers, always putting in an order for gallons of vanilla ice cream to go along with her pies. The unique flavors were also a hit with customers who got a scoop included as part of the dinner special.

Emma’s feet crunched on the dry leaves in Granny’s courtyard, which made her smile. She swung the door open and walked in, taking a quick look at what the miners sitting at the counter were eating for lunch. Lots of lasagna, a few grilled cheeses, and Leroy’s heaping bowl of orange sherbert. He was definitely their best customer.

She headed back to the kitchen window where Granny was placing orders with the kitchen staff.

“Thank God you’re here,” she told Emma. “We just ran out of vanilla. I thought a cupcake/ice cream combo would be a hit, but it was way too popular at lunch today.”

Emma gave her a perplexed look. “What kind of combo?” she asked.

“Delicious cupcakes with ice cream, Swan! In fact, I’m here to drop off a new batch myself.”

Emma scowled. She recognized that voice and was not surprised when she turned to see its owner leaning against the counter with a smug grin on his face next to Granny’s cake plate stocked full of cupcakes.

Killian Jones.

She had no idea why the cupcake store owner insisted on wearing all black. It seemed so impractical for a cake maker who was constantly around flour and sugar, but he made it look effortless. Emma was always picking sugar out of her hair or cleaning spilled cream off her clothes. His clothes were immaculate and made her mouth water.

She would never tell him that second part. Because honestly, everyone knew that man was gorgeous. But not everyone recognized the feud there was between Any Given Sundae and The Jolly Cupcake. Hell, even Ingrid thought Emma’s belief that The Jolly Cupcake was a rival was overblown.

“Sweet treats can co-exist in this town,” Ingrid once told her. “I don’t know why you have such a grudge against one of them.”

Because one of them was run by an infuriating man. He was gorgeous and successful and, dammit, his cupcakes were amazing. His flavors were special and perfectly balanced between the cake and the icing. It was annoying.

He was annoying.

Emma gave the smiling baker a once over and sighed. “Jones.”

“What did you bring with you today, Swan?” He swaggered over and pushed into her personal space. “I do hope it’s deletable.”

Emma just rolled her eyes. “Of course, it is. I made it.” Her eyes darted over to the cake plate on the counter. “What about you?”

“Delightful as always,” he said with a wicked smile. “Would you like to try a maple brown sugar cupcake? Or perhaps a dark chocolate one with cinnamon icing? I hear it’s a favorite of yours.”

Emma’s mouth was watering from the cupcakes and Killian’s voice was heating up other parts of her body. Dammit, why did a rival who pressed her buttons have to be so delicious as he did it?

“They sound fine.”

Emma grabbed the empty cooler sitting in the pick-up window from the kitchen and started to head out.

“I thought we were sharing, lass?” Killian asked as she walked by. “What new concoction did you whip up?”

“Ice cream,” she yelled back.

“Sounds tasty! I can’t wait to lick it up!”

Emma was thankful to hear the door close behind her as she pushed her way into the chilled fall day outside. She needed a little air to cool off after that meeting with Killian.

Of course, she was going to go back to Granny’s and try that chocolate cupcake with cinnamon icing. What kind of person wouldn’t want that? But there was no way in hell she was ever going to tell Killian she did it. Just like there was no way she was ever going to tell him about her taste tests of several other flavors she quietly snuck out of Granny’s Diner over the past few months. It would be better to not inflate his ego anymore than it already was.

xxx

Apparently, today was not Emma’s day. As soon as she got back to the store, Ingrid sent her out on another ice cream run, this time to Hansel and Gretel’s candy shop. She had no problem with the brother-and-sister duo, probably because neither of them was as infuriatingly attractive as Killian Jones.

Which is why she was so frustrated when she ran into him -- literally -- as she was leaving the candy shop.

“Careful with the cupcakes, Swan. You wouldn’t want to smash my treats.” He leaned in and gave her a wicked grin. “Or perhaps you would.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Infuriating.

(Also, she wouldn’t mind smashing his treats. Also, that made her frustrated. Again.)

But there was one place where she could really throw him off his game: The Rabbit Hole.

Emma smiled as the bar’s owner, Liam Jones, poured his creamy concoction into two glasses, adding straws to both of them.

“OK, let me know what you think of that,” he said as he grabbed his own off the bar.

It only took a few sips before Emma moaned in delight. “This is amazing, Liam.”

“Hey!”

Emma smiled. Once again, she recognized the voice. “Hey, Killian. What’s up?”

He put down a large white baker’s box on the bar and pulled the bar stool out from right next to her. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, Swan. What are you doing here?”

“Just drinking.”

Her lips curled dramatically around the straw again and she took another drink. She could tell it had the effect she wanted on Killian. His eyes trailed down to her mouth, his jaw did that thing where he flexed it whenever he was tense. She could play this game all night.

“Here, try this, brother.”

Liam put a glass down in front of Killian and poured some more of his experiment into it. Killian gave the glass an odd look and then did as he was told, his long lashes fluttering shut as he drank.

“Bloody hell,” he finally said. “What is that?”

“An apple pie. It’s apple cider ice cream from Any Given Sundae mixed with vanilla vodka. It’s great, right?”

Killian’s ecstacy turned into a scowl as he looked at Emma. “Are you turning my brother against me now?”

She just shrugged. “I saw a business opportunity.”

She leaned over and drank more, keeping her eyes focused on Killian as his did that thing where they lingered on her lips again. Was this really what their relationship had come to? Trading jabs over ice cream cocktails at a bar?

And yet, after the day Emma had, she didn’t mind it. She liked teasing him like this. In fact, she liked alot of things about him. She liked the way he responded to her teasing. She liked the way he smiled at her comebacks. She was definitely impressed with how he looked in that black outfit of his, no matter how infuriating it was that he could keep it so clean.

Killian finally cleared his throat to gain some composure. “Well, if you want to talk business, Swan.”

He gave her one his trademark eyebrow raises and reached over to the box next to him. He lifted the lid just high enough for Emma to see all the cupcakes inside. They all looked amazing. Killian’s decorating skills were ridiculous. Then he set a dark cupcake down in front of her.

“Winter ale cupcake with a stout frosting. Tell me what you think.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically.

He seemed undeterred, giving her a warm smile in return. “Go ahead, and be brutally honest. I know you won’t hold back.”

“And not to sway you one way or another,” Liam said. “But we sold out of yesterday’s batch in an hour.”

She looked at the bartender, who simply smiled and grabbed the box of cupcakes off the bar and took them to the back. Emma turned to the cupcake, pulling the wrapper down to expose the moist cake inside. It looked amazing -- fluffy and light with just the right amount of frosting. Some cupcake makers added too much frosting, but Killian had a knack for getting the right balance. Dammit again, it was so annoying that he was so good at this. And he opened the shop only six months ago! Crazy prodigy baker always dressed in black.

She stared at the cupcake a bit longer and then finally took a bite. Damn, it was good. Great flavors that weren’t overwhelming. The frosting and cake complimenting each other so well. If she wasn’t being watched, she would’ve quickly stuffed the rest of it in her mouth at once.

But she was being watched. She couldn’t see his eyes -- she was still staring at the cupcake. But she could feel his glare. He was anticipating her response. Because for as much as they teased each other, as much as they were at odds -- whether true or exaggerated -- there was a mutual respect between them when it came to their crafts. Emma could give him some snarky comment in response, or she could just tell the truth.

She looked up to see him staring at her in anticipation. She couldn’t tease him about these.

“This is amazing.”

His face broke out into a huge smile. “Be honest, Swan. Do you really like them?”

She rolled her eyes. “It pains me to say it, but I honestly do.”

“Better or worse than the chocolate with the cinnamon frosting?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Never had one of those.”

She took another bite, the cake and frosting melting together in her mouth.

“That’s a lie,” Killian teased. “Granny said you bought half a dozen from her.”

Emma stopped eating as she stared at the man next to her. She loved Granny dearly, but that woman sold her out and told Killian her secret. And yes, she had in fact bought out all of Granny’s inventory of the chocolate cupcakes with cinnamon frosting. They were delicious. So what? “Emma, you’ve got some frosting…”

His voice trailed off as he motioned on his face to a spot near his lips. She swiped at the spot, but it only caused Killian to laugh at her more.

“Hold on, let me help.”

“This is your fault,” she said. “You put too much frosting on this one.”

He didn’t have to say anything. The disbelieving look on his face said it all.

“OK, fine. It had the right amount of frosting.”

“Thank you,” he said as he reached for her. “And for the record, your apple cider ice cream is mind blowing.”

She could only stare at him. Mind blowing? He thought her ice cream was mind blowing? Wow. That was… quite the compliment from the cupcake king.

He swiped at the frosting on her face, his fingers warm against her cheek. “There,” he said quietly.

But instead of pulling away, his hand pulled her closer, his breath against her face. Then he kissed her. It was warm and gentle and sweet. So sweet. The buttercream frosting from the cupcake mixed with the apple cider ice cream on his lips. It was like kissing a heaven full of fall flavors.

He pulled away slightly, an awkward smile teasing at the corners of his lips. “Sorry, lass. I don’t know what came over me.”

She shook her head, trying to clear out the fog that seemed to have settled over her brain. “Um, it’s OK. It’s fine. Well, more than fine. It was, uh… Well, this cupcake is pretty magical or whatever I guess.”

The tension in Killian’s shoulders disappeared, his swagger back but with a genuine warmth in his smile.

“I’m glad you like it.” He leaned over and took another drink from his apple pie cocktail. “This, by the way, is bloody amazing.”

“Do you like it?” she asked. “It was actually Liam’s idea. He came into our shop after he had some of our ice cream at Granny’s.”

“Liam has a knack for finding new flavors for the bar.”

Emma looked down at her half eaten cupcake and smiled. Maybe Liam wasn’t the only one who could try new flavors. Maybe it was time for Emma to try something new, starting with Killian Jones.

She turned to Killian and smiled. “So were the winter ale cupcakes Liam’s idea?”

“Of course,” he replied in a dejected tone. “And he hasn’t let me forget it.”

Killian started talking about Liam’s ideas for spiked egg nog cupcakes for Christmas and Irish Creme cupcakes for St. Patrick’s Day. He talked about the bad batches he still made on occasion that would crumble instead of stick together. Emma suggested maybe using the broken cupcakes in a vanilla base for a new ice cream flavor. Then she talked about the latest cake batter flavors they were trying for the ice cream with Killian giving her tips on different ways to mix the ingredients she was using.

And sometime after midnight, he walked her out to her car and kissed her again, and his lips were just as sweet as before.

[stygiantarot]

Tactile Witchcraft

(taught on The Alexandria Archives 5/16/2020)

Today we shall be exploring witchcraft from a specific sensory perception- touch. While there is absolutely no wrong sense to use to experience and practice witchcraft; I would say that sight and hearing are the most common; followed by scent. I’d like to offer an alternative inspiration with tactile focused witchcraft and show that it can be intermingled with a witch’s routine quite easily. This is especially helpful for those of us who have trouble with the common “visualizing” side of witchcraft.

Using my own experiences, I’ll explain how tactile witchcraft can be incorporated into the following routines and practices:

raising energy/charging

grounding and cleansing

meditation

divination

protection

ritual framework

Raising Energy and Charging Objects

Raising energy is used for almost any focused activity in witchcraft. The act of awakening your focus and intention in a ritual way. Many use visualizing for this- imagining energy flowing upwards into their hands or outward from their body like an expanding bubble. There are some common tactile methods that you may not even be aware of! Such as:

rubbing your hands together until they’re warm

posturing in a certain way (a certain standing or sitting position)

stomping or dancing

touching certain favored objects (like on an altar or other tools)


This can be expanded on further into a more intense tactile action to raise your energy. Certain complex hand motions (think like the show The Magicians!), or physically connecting with objects that help you raise energy. You could run your fingers through a pot of dirt or sand, put your feet in the tub or a basin and run water over them, toss a special stone or coin from hand to hand (carefully of course), rub a particular lotion or oil on your face, arms, shoulders, or feet.

Notice tactile sensations rather than visual ones to know that your energy is being called forth. Feel the heat, the goosebumps or tingles, a tightening or adjusting of your body’s muscles or stance, a small breeze or touch perhaps.

When it comes to charging objects and tools- get into using your body to do so! My personal method is called “massaging the bones” and can be read about here.

You can also use your lips to kiss or blow your breath onto the object. You can jump or dance with it. You can hug it, cuddle it, wrap it in a special blanket, stroke it with a brush, feather, leaf, etc. Just the act of focusing your attention with this activities imbues the object with energy. It might be harder than raising energy to feel a direct effect but you can still get the temperature change or goosebumps/prickles sensation when charging objects like this. Especially if you take it slow and give it emotional depth during the process.

Do you have any special things you do to welcome a new special object into your home? Especially something emotional like a stuffie or sentimental decorative object. What about things you enjoy yourself when visiting a close friend or family member? Think about how you can incorporate those kind of actions in altered ways to charging objects and ritual tools.

Grounding and Cleansing

The act of grounding frequently involves a tactile element already. Touching the floor with your hands or feet is the most common. You can add onto this with having a bowl or pot of soil, sand, marbles/stones, or other substance (you could use salt or flour!) that you run your fingertips through. When you use food or drink to ground, incorporate observing the tactile element along with the taste- the texture and the temperature.

Grounding is basically using deliberate observation to bring ourselves gently back into focus with the mundane world. Stroke a pet, a blanket, a stuffie. Shuffle a deck of cards or shake and roll some dice. Stack or unstack a favorite pile of books. Flip through one of those books. What do the pages feel like? What about the cover and binding? And there is nothing wrong with branching out to include multiple senses at once when focusing on tactile grounding- while flipping through the book and observing the pages, notice what they smell like. What does the book smells like? You can also focus on your own limbs and body, give yourself a brief massage limb by limb (lotion optional). Or trace your skin with a brush or fingertip, even a pen if you like to draw or write.

What actions tend to help bring you back to yourself when emotions overwhelm you? That’s mundane grounding! Think about how to incorporate some of those into a practice for grounding after a ritual or working.

When it comes to cleansing, the easiest way to do it tactilely is to literal clean the space (or your own body) that you are wanting to cleanse. Create a floor wash with particular correspondences and ingredients and then wash your floor, walls, and doorways with it. Mix a scented powder to sweep into corners to collect negative energy and then vacuum it up after a couple days (make sure to check if it’s pet safe ingredients if needed; they love to lick their paws after walking all over!). But you can also do variations on this if you don’t have the ability or spoons to physically clean a room.

Take a small scrap of fabric and charge it with the rooms energy. You can do this by walking around wiping down surfaces or just by sitting in the room or area needed to be cleansed holding the cloth and focusing on how the room feels, smells, sounds, and letting it “collect” into the cloth. Now get a small bowl of water, add some cleansing herbs or even just a squeeze of lemon juice and sprinkle of salt. Now wash that cloth gently but thoroughly. Let the energy of that washing spread outwards from the cloth to tie to the room. The cloth is the space’s taglock. And it can be reused- hang the fabric to dry as the room is cleared of bad energy and then gently fold it and place it in a safe place until needed again. This can be stacked on in other purposes- painting or stitching protection sigils on it to protect the space.

It’s important that the tactile cleansing action is something you associate personally with removing debris and dust but otherwise be as creative as you like!

Meditation

So much of mainstream meditation books, articles, and videos focus on auditory meditation. If any of you are like me, that can get old or lose it’s effectiveness on some days. I’m not a big meditator personally; especially of the type that’s “zone out and don’t think of anything” so this section will be short but here are a couple ways I do focused tactile meditations for inspiration:

Walking path meditations: I like to do cemeteries, but it can be parks, hikes, even just a walk in your neighborhood or in a shopping/urban district. The goal is mostly to not focus on any one thing too long and to observe your surroundings, especial natural ones. The weather, the vegetation, the structures/architecture, creatures, even energy/ vibes/feelings.

Strand or String based mediation: this involves knotting a long strand of string or rope, crocheting/knitting, braiding (even your own hair), sewing or embroidering, etc. Basically anything semi-repetitive that involves a fabrics, yarn, or string-like materials. It’s not about entirely zoning out, but about noticing the feel of your activity and how it makes you feel. You can include music as well if you like, again it’s okay to combine senses.

Kitchen based mediation: Kneading dough, mixing batter, combining a soup or stew, stirring a drink, chopping ingredients (safely of course), shaping cookies, tenderizing meat, rolling out and cutting pasta, etc. So many aspects of creating a dish in the kitchen have a meditative quality to them. Again, the idea isn’t to “think of nothing”, especially when working around heat and sharp objects. The idea is the almost repetitive action that you know is going to lead to nurturing sustenance. This can also be a good way to teach kiddos a gentler version of meditating without it being a huge chore. It was while kneading dough that my grandmother taught me to reflect on my day and what I wanted from the upcoming one- a version of focused meditation.

Self-care meditation: Soaking in a bath, smoothing on lotion, applying a face mask, brushing hair, massaging aching muscles, mixing up a favorite cuppa, etc. Give yourself that well deserved attention and gentleness while you let your mind also be soothed. Focus on the texture of your products on your skin, the feel of tea in your mouth and belly, the way you feel after giving yourself that treat.

Divination

Even divining has a tactile component that can be expanded! A deck of cards being shuffled is already about the feel, but you can also take the time to feel each card facedown before you turn them over. Do you notice anything different when you touch each one? If you take the time to truly shuffle your cards slowly and deliberately as a focusing activity to help get you in the zone of divining (before you even start considering a specific question or inquiry), you may be surprised to notice your ability to shuffle improve, especially if you do this daily. I encourage shuffling a deck at least once or twice a day regardless of whether you actually do a reading. Bond with that deck physically. Let your fingertips become so familiar with your deck(s) that you could pick it out of lineup, merely by the touch.

Other ways to divine with tactile focuses are: 


casting objects (throwing the bones: the feel of each piece should go into what associations it gets ascribed.

aleuromancy: toss, mix, or knead the flour with your hands. The shaping of dough for the paper slips is tactile. And you can use physical differences in each cookie in your interpretations as well.

wax divination: there is a variation on fire scrying that specifically uses wax and the way it melts. There is a physical aspect to this in holding the candle, feeling the wax when it’s still warm or after it has cooled. I’ve even kept interesting shaped drippings as charms or offerings on shrines

dowsing: using the touch and movement of an object in your hands to divine location of specific things (classically water).

palmistry: taking the feel and texture of the skin and lines into account

astragalamancy: feeling the dice and the act of throwing them

Protection

The act of protecting one’s practice and self is quite a varied one but most witches do practice some form of protection work in their practice. Whether for a space, self, or other persons they care about. It’s another practice that has a common visualizing methodology with imagining stacked bricks, hammered shields, pricking thorns, biting teeth, etc.

Much like what was discussed in the raising energy section, there are a lot of actions that can be done to focus your energy on protection without needing to invoke a sense that doesn’t work as well for you. Braiding a belt or bracers with protective colors or materials and affixing to a taglock or poppet. Creating a sympathetic magic wall of legos or blocks for a personal shield or property ward. Stitching protective sigils onto your clothing or on curtains in your home. Sympathetic magic is when a “stand in” object or representation of your goal or person is used to connect the will of influence. It’s very useful for tactile witchcraft and I find it especially effective in protective magic.

As with the gentle massaging mentioned in the charging objects section, the emotional side of your tactile action is important. When it comes to protection, if you need to smash, squish, stab, tear, flush, or stomp your sympathetic magic object during this process, go with that desire! (safely of course) Using a nail to puncture a potato over and over before you pour a withering potion over it is doubly effective at hex or curse breaking.

Protection doesn’t have to be something violent either; you can tap into loving feelings and give a protective bath or massage to a popper or taglock. You can gently weave a protective square of material as a shield. You could sculpt something out of clay or dough. Feeling where your protective strength and comfort stems from and build upon it!

Ritual Framework

This last section will outline how to tie a lot of what has been discussed together into a longer ritual framework. Multiple tactile actions during a ritual when it something you find effective in raising and directing your energy will only pack a stronger punch, so to speak.

Start by choosing a method of energy raising that involves touch and texture but relates well to your ritual goal. For example; if doing a ritual to heal a friend I wouldn’t choose something like stomping or throwing objects. The lotion or oil anointing would work well; or even the running water over the body. It might be hard to do with a faucet since I’d have to move from my bathroom to my ritual space afterwards but this can be accounted for either in mindset or by altering it. Bring a large basin of water and bowl or cup to your ritual space and pour the water over your feet and hands.

Then you might use some sympathetic magic to send healing energy to your friend. Create a poppet for the loved one that you can literally massage or give a soothing bath to. You might go beyond simple tactile actions and tuck the poppet into a comfy spot to sleep, read it a favorite story or sing a favorite song. Paint a healing sigil on the scrap of fabric you use as a blanket.

Use some tactile divination if needed to help guide you and your friend to the most ideal way to deal with this time while they heal. The fortune cookie variation of aleuromancy would be a good choice; you and your friend can reap the rewards of the baked goods together.

Grounding yourself after is important- don’t forget! This ritual would take a lot out of your, especially emotionally, with it being focused on healing a loved one. You might stroke a special blanket, stuffie, or pet to bring that soothing connection along with your grounding. Or stacking some favorite books that you might even pick from to unwind is a good choice too.

You can see from the example laid out how building on all these suggestions can work in tandem together for various forms of witchcraft and intentions.

What sort of ritual do you think could be built with a tactile focus? If you don’t usually do traditional rituals, what sort of working have you been inspired to add a new tactile element to?

[therecipes-includingcake]

Picnics... the plant-based way!

Schools out...and so is the sunshine, er kinda...

The sun might have hidden the last few days where I am but excusing the little blip in the weather  (I hope) it has been HOT HOT HOT as of late... and that means one thing, dining al fresco!

Even though the sun isn't out much today, I still sat outside to eat my lunch and that's when it occurred to me to write a picnic post for the holidays, so here you go!

It's funny really as sometimes blog posts take a while to come to fruition... beginning as a thought that might sit in my 'drafts' or 'to try' folders on Evernote for months. Yet sometimes they literally spring forth in a matter of minutes. Being the messy creative type you could probably guess that I don't have a lot of structure going on behind the scenes when it comes to blogging, it;s kind of whatever my head throws up in any given moment... hmmm, yeah I should probably get onto that ;-/

I was also sitting and dreaming about my retreat and all the food i'd love cook up- simple yet tantalising dishes that everyone (including kids and picky eaters) would enjoy and most importantly be able to recreate back home! This seemed to lend itself nicely to the picnic philosophy, so here's a little round up of ideas to get you going... if you make any off them please take a pic and tag me on Facebook or Instagram as it always bring a super shiny smile to my face!

The lunch I happened to be sitting and eating earlier was this one... a spin on my classic 'chickpea cauli quiche' (featured in the round up) and because it was a little different (with broccoli subbing some of the cauli) I figured it was deserving of a full recipe post of it's own.

Recipe: Cauli-Brocolli Mini Quiche

Makes 4 mini quiches

Ingredients: 

½ heaped cup finely processed broccoli (approx. 4 florets or stalk)

½ heaped cup finely processed cauliflower (approx. 4 florests or stalk)

1 cup chickpea flour

1 tbs flax

½ tsp salt

3 cloves crushed garlic

1 heaped tsp dried mixed herbs

1 scant tsp baking powder

½ cup water (plus 1-3 tbs extra if needed)

½ a red onion- chopped

½ a courgette sliced into thin half moons or quarters

Method:

Add all ingredients to a food processor other than the water, red onion and courgette. process until the cauliflower and broccoli are a rice-like consistency (it should be a bit pasty due to the chickpea flower. 

Tip the sticky mix into a medium mixing bowl and add the chopped onion (courgette can be added now or at the end end). Add the water and mix through well until the mixture is very thick but easily spoonable and the top can be smoothed, add a little extra water if needed but not so that the batter is runny.

Spoon the mix into large muffin cups (or an 8" tin) I use silicone muffin cups/tin, but you could also use a metal one with removable bottom or line the cups to ensure easy removal.

Press the mixture firmly into the cups and smooth the tops, press the courgette into the tops. Bake at 180C for approx. 20 mins for muffins (longer for a single large quiche) until the tops are nice and a skewer comes out almost clean.

Serve either hot or cold. Perfect cold for picnics and because it freezes well it can also be made in advance.

Plant based picnic round up...

All the recipes are perfect for portioning, for serving cold and making in advance. Perfect for picnics ...or just whilst sitting on a blanket in the garden!

They appear a little randomly below as they are listed in chronological order in the summary window. P.s the cauli-cheese sauce makes the perfect dip alternative to hummus which is why I included it!

I'd love to hear your own picnic ideas too... let me know in the comments!

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day eleven

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,200 Characters: Barry/Kara Prompt: “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”

For: @luucypevensie

A/N: These two always warm my heart!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

The house smells like gingerbread as soon as he’s stepped through the door, and he takes a deep breath, a smile tugging at his lips as he hears his two girls giggling from inside the kitchen. He didn’t think something as simple as coming home could make him feel so happy, but whatever. He just really loves his life, okay?

He shrugs out of his coat, sets aside on the dining room table as he heads for the kitchen, and he swears he’ll never, ever get over the way his little girl’s face lights up as soon as she sees him. “Daddy!” she squeals, hopping off of the kitchen island and onto her feet and running right at him. It used to freak them out at first, just how agile she is. Not that it actually surprised them, but still. She’s this tiny little thing and he remembers then she was even tinier, swaddled in a blanket in his arms when they took her home from the hospital for the first time, and it’s easy to forget that she’s, you know. Not totally human. With him being a meta-human and Kara being an alien, Stella was bound to inherit a few of their little quirks.

Though, considering how much of a klutz the both of them are, he doesn’t know where Stella gets her grace. Maybe that part was just pure luck.

“Stella!” he laughs, opening his arms the moment she jumps into them, and he hugs her to his chest, giving her a squeeze. She’s got a little flour dusted on one cheek and a smudge of frosting on the other, and of course it just looks plain adorable on her.

“We baked today!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up.

“I can see that,” Barry says, looking past her and catching Kara’s gaze as she laughs and shrugs her shoulders all cutely, setting her frosting bag down and licking some off of her fingers. There are literally a dozen gingerbread houses sitting on the kitchen island, and two trays of cinnamon rolls lined up on the table, and three plates of cookies on the counter. Kara had told him that they would be baking today, and yeah, this is their first time hosting everyone for Christmas dinner, but still. He wasn’t expecting to walk into a little bakery.

Well, no. Considering how much Kara loves to bake and how much Stella loves to decorate, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Aren’t Clark and Lois going to be here soon?” Barry asks, glancing at the kitchen clock.

Kara’s eyes widen, making Barry chuckle as she sort of flails her arms and laughs, “Oh, shoot! We lost track of time!” Stella just giggles like her Mommy is so silly, then wriggles herself out of Barry’s arms, landing on her feet. “Can you wash your face for me, please? And change into the sweater Uncle Clark and Auntie Lois gave you? I laid it out on your bed.”

“Yes, Mommy!” Stella replies, and then she’s off again, bounding up the staircase. Her speed hasn’t quite kicked in yet, but she gets quicker every day.

“Argh, this place is a disaster,” Kara says with a wide smile and a shake of her head, spinning around to take in the extensive mess that they’ve made. At least Kara thought to try and contain it as they went along, stacking all of the trays and mixing bowls in the sink and letting them soak in water and dish soap as they decorated. She turns back to the kitchen island to start gathering up the dishes of candy she laid out for their gingerbread houses, but Barry catches her by her waist, spins her back around to face him as he tugs her to his chest. She blinks those ridiculously long eyelashes up at him, surprised for a moment, and then a bright smile graces her lips. “Hi,” she says, then laughs. “I can’t believe I forgot to say that!”

“I know how you can make it up to me,” he says, leaning in and ghosting his lips over hers. Her eyes are sparkling.

“A kiss?”

“Well, I was going to say a cookie, but I guess that still works,” he teases, and she’s giggling, playfully trying to lean away as he presses a kiss to her lips. She hums, melting into his touch, parting her lips for him when he licks at the seam of them. She tastes like cinnamon and vanilla frosting and he licks it off of her tongue, kissing her a little deeper.

After a moment, she pulls away and smiles at him, her cheeks a little flushed and her lips wet and nipped pink, and, shit. He kind of wants to cancel with Clark and Lois, or maybe even have them take Stella out for a little while, so he can have his beautiful wife all to himself.

He knows she can see the desire in his eyes, too, because she glances at his lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation in her eyes. And then she laughs and shakes her head.

“No, Barry, we can’t! My cousin is coming over,” she reminds, only half-heartedly trying to pull away, but he wraps his arms around her tighter and nuzzles his face into her neck. She twines her fingers through his hair and presses a kiss to his temple as he takes a deep breath. This really isn’t making him want her less, but, whatever. He knows nothing ever will.

“You’re in trouble, you know,” he mumbles into her skin, just above her pulse, and he feels her pause.

“What?” she asks.

He lifts his head, nips at the lobe of her ear just to feel her cling onto him a little tighter, and then he whispers, “You left the receipt for your pregnancy tests in my car.”

She goes completely still at this, and he’s laughing as he pulls away to find her lips parted, twitching as if to fight off a smile. “Barry!” she exclaims, swatting at his shoulder, and he laughs even harder, holding onto her even tighter. “That was supposed to be your Christmas gift! Well, only one of them, and you have others that I’m super excited to give you, but still—you just ruined the surprise!” she cries out, and she’s on the verge of giggling, and maybe even on the verge of crying, which she always does when she’s really, really happy.

“You know, I almost crashed when I found that receipt crumpled up in the cup-holder,” he tells her. “And I may have gotten a speeding ticket trying to get here, which I’ll have to call Joe about. But. I just couldn’t wait to come home to you and Stella.” He kisses the bridge of her nose. “I wanted to sit on it for a bit, but I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, that’s a shocker,” Kara teases. “Your impatience is how we ended up with Stella, and probably how we ended up with this little one, too,” she adds, sliding a hand between them and over the front of her flat stomach. He covers her hand with his, his thumb brushing over her wedding band. “At this rate, we’ll have quite the gaggle of kids running around here.”

“That’s the plan,” he says, and she bites her lip, peering up at him with that look that always, always gets him into trouble.

God, he loves his life.

[edgewaterfarmcsa]

CSA WEEK 15

- P I C K L I S T -

Sweet Peppers (all of them i promise: CARMEN, LUNCHBOX, HABANADA) - Arugula/Mizuna - Parsley - 

Gold Potatoes - Kol Rabi - Garlic - Green Tomatoes - Plum Tomatoes

Written on the morning of the Fall Equinox- bundled in wool, sitting next to the wood stove as she hosts the first fire of the season, and me with my one millionth cup of coffee of the season.  Today I begrudgingly welcome the Fall.  Summer is glorious around here and everyday is packed with light and abundance.  The food floods the plants, the kiddos need only shoes, underwear, sun hat (pants always optional), and we (the big farmers) run on coffee, water and a truck load of bushel baskets.  Everyday is filled with purpose and movement and snacks in every field.  Hot damn Summer is my season.  But as we are reminded by too many songs and poems- the seasons change yatta yatta yatta.  

In past years this movement into Fall occurred way more gradually.  It was a real easing in.  But this past Friday frost hit, three nights in a row, and it hard.  To prep, we stress picked bins of peppers, bushels of eggplants and crates upon crates of tomatoes.  We covered the green beans with remay, scooped up all of the winter squash, and Anne ran irrigation on her prized zinnias.  We did what we could, and held on tight to the hopes of a thick Connecticut River fog to cover the fields (this prevents frost).  But there is little moisture in the air.  Friday night the temps dipped, and all that was not covered and all that is not cold hardy got hit by the inevitable change of seasons.  And I cried multiple times.*

It’s hard to watch a field of food that you and the earth (mostly the earth) worked so damn hard to grow, get beaten up so badly in one night.  There could have been so much more to reap and feed.     

Pooh- my father in law/story-teller/tractor driver/plant propagator/knowledge base for all things soil and farm mentioned this was the earliest frost he’d seen in literal decades.  The last time he saw a kill frost come this early, Ray was toddling around playing a gourd like a guitar about 34 years ago.   

So here we are, moving right into Fall, with a lot still growing- but those Summer Gems (eggplant, peppers, corn) are gone.  I mean we still have bins of them stored in a cooler but they will be empty in one week’s time.  You (CSAer) will get the last of the peppers, and I somehow need to find a minute to freeze the last of the corn.    

ALSO CSA friends!  There is still room in the FALL CSA!! Sign on so we can continue to hang out over crops and recipes from now until Thanksgiving.  

*also the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg did a number on my heart strings. 

 May have added to the frost tears.  RBG may your memory be a blessing.  

HOT TIPS:

The following recipe (romesco) is a RAY SPRAGUE FAVORITE, and this guy hates the taste of peppers.  We typically make a huge batch and freeze into pint containers to smear on pasta, toast, etc all winter long

 SUNFLOWER ROMESCO (from the blog: thefirstmess)

½ cup toasted sunflower seeds

2 roasted red peppers (homemade or from a jar)

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

½ teaspoon aleppo pepper, or a pinch of cayenne

2 tablespoons sherry OR apple cider vinegar

1 tablespoon tomato paste

small handful flat parsley leaves

sea salt and ground black pepper

scant ½ cup virgin olive oil

Make the sunflower romesco: In the bowl of a food processor, combine the sunflower seeds, roasted red peppers, garlic, paprika, aleppo pepper, vinegar, tomato paste, parsley, salt, and pepper. Pulse the mixture until all ingredients are finely chopped and lightly pasty. Scrape the bowl down. Then, with the motor on low, drizzle the olive oil in through the feed tube until fully incorporated. Check the sauce for seasoning. Transfer sauce to a sealable jar, and set aside in the fridge until ready to use.

THE FOLLOWING IS A GREAT GUIDE

 If making a large batch and storing in the freezer:

parchment paper

air tight containers that are freezer safe

For storing in jars

vinegar (plain, balsamic, white/red wine, or apple cider)

mineral salt

olive oil

clean pint sized mason jars

PREPPING PEPPERS:  There are two ways to prepare your peppers for roasting.

The first is to simply roast the whole pepper, seeds, stem and all. (This will work with all roasting methods.)

The second is to slice the peppers in half lengthwise, remove the stem and seeds, and place on the baking sheet cut side down. (Use this method for the oven method and/or when using a baking sheet. These peppers require no flipping, only rotating of the baking sheet. This is my favorite way of roasting peppers.)

ROASTING METHODS:  Oven: Preheat oven to 475 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment.

Place peppers on baking sheet. Bake 4 – 5 inches from the flame. If using an electric oven or there is no flame, place baking sheet on the middle rack. Roast peppers for 40 minutes, turning at least once during cooking using sturdy tongs (if peppers are sliced in half no need to turn, just rotate the baking sheet 180 degrees). They are ready when charred/blackened and blistered. Whole peppers will still be full of air and puffy once removed from the oven. As the peppers cool they will deflate and become wrinkly looking. 

Broiler: I used to have an oven where the broiler was underneath the oven, now mine is in the oven. Either way, turn broiler to medium – high (or 500 degrees if yours is by numbers) and char peppers turning every so often until browned and blackened. If you’ve prepped your peppers by slicing in half, no need turn the peppers, simply adjust the baking sheet turning it to get all the peppers charred. This may take anywhere from 15 – 25 minutes.

 Open Grill: Place whole peppers on their sides over an open flame on the grill, turning every now and then until nicely charred all over. Depending on how big your grill is will determine how many you can do at one time.

Stove Top: If roasting just 1 or 2 peppers, you can roast it over the gas burner of your stove (I suppose you could do 4 peppers utilizing each burner). Place pepper on its side and adjust the flame so it ‘licks’ the peppers. Keep an eye on it and turn it as needed to blacken and char, about 15 – 20. This tends to be a more time consuming method since you have to be so watchful.

From here use right away to make hummus, romesco, soups, layer on sandwiches and toss in salads, etc.

STORING:  

Refrigerator: Great for short term storage.

Keep leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 5 – 6 days.

If you coat them with a little oil they will for a couple of weeks. You can even add some of the pepper juices to the container.  To always be safe, at the first sign of mold or spoilage, throw away immediately.  If storing for longer, you have a couple simple options:

Freezing: This is my favorite method of long term storing, as it is not blended with any other flavors, it’s super easy to do, and they thaw out amazingly well.  Freeze your peppers in a tightly sealed container. They thaw out pretty fast once removed from the freezer making this a nice way of preserving your precious peppers.

Vinegar Method: This method will leave your peppers with a little bit of tang from the vinegar, in some cases it may overpower them, but it’s a great way to store them. Use these peppers for sauces, dips, and soups.

Place peppers in a jar with a little salt, vinegar and pepper juices.  To do this you’ll want to sprinkle your peppers with a generous pinch of mineral salt and mix well.  Place 1/2 inch of vinegar at the bottom of your pint sized mason jar, add peppers leaving about 1 1/2 inches headspace.  Using the handle of a spoon or fork, poke along the inside edges of the jar to release air bubbles (this is important), pour reserved pepper juices over top so peppers are completely covered, leaving 3/4 inch room.  Add about 1/8 inch of olive oil over top to keep air out, leaving 1/2 inch headspace.  Seal and place towards the back of the refrigerator. Will be good for up to 2 months, maybe even a little longer.  If you see any sign of mold or spoilage, throw away immediately!

GREEN TOMATOES:  

I am in love with the below recipe- reminds me of my georgia roots- this was a favorite recipe eaten at our favorite restaurant, The Flying Biscuit

For the cashew relish:

1 1/2 cups cashews

2 red jalapenos, stemmed, seeded and roughly chopped

1/3 cup fresh cilantro leaves

3/4 cup honey

1/3 cup white vinegar

For the tomatoes:

2 1/2 cups milk

2 eggs

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon celery salt

1 tablespoon black pepper

1/2 tablespoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon onion powder

1/2 teaspoon paprika

4 medium green tomatoes, sliced 1/2 inch thick

6 cups canola oil

1/2 cup goat cheese

Prepare the relish: In a food processor, add cashews, jalapenos and cilantro and pulse just until combined. Transfer to a bowl. Add honey and vinegar and mix thoroughly.

Prepare tomatoes: In a bowl, combine milk and eggs. Set aside.

In a bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, salt, celery salt, black and cayenne peppers, onion powder and paprika.

One at a time, dredge tomato slices in flour mixture, then in the egg mixture, then in the flour mixture again.

Heat the oil to 375 degrees. Fry tomatoes, a few at a time, until golden brown. Drain briefly on paper towels. While still hot, place three to four tomatoes per plate. Top with goat cheese and cashew relish.

Makes 4 servings

GREEN TOMATO CAKE

This recipe was shared by Becca Webb of Two Potters on her instagram page. She and her husband Nathan craft beautiful and resilient pieces of kitchenware (mugs, bowls, plates, vases, etc…) I can testify to their resilience as I take my car mug (though I call it my field mug) on all morning harvests. It has been left in fields overnight, and fallen off many a kubota buggy. Bottomline, though I have not taste tested this recipe, I trust their craftsmen ship and therefor am eager to bake this cake come weekend. You in?

[great-jenna-bake-off]

Season 2 Episode 3: Focaccia

I have to admit, I was feeling pretty cocky after my last attempt at Bread Week. Sure, I felt like I could have gotten a crisper crust and a higher rise out of my white cob loaf, but it was super popular on Instagram, and that’s the only metric that truly matters. So naturally, I assumed that focaccia would be a walk in the park for a well-seasoned bread master like myself. 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/focaccia_08389

What I really love about bread week is that I already have all the ingredients for the bake in my pantry. Nothing beats the feeling of freshly made bread that costs you literally nothing. This bake started off pretty much the same as the last bread recipe: throw the ingredients into a bowl and mix. Except that it contained a LOT of water.  I took ceramics in high school and the process of kneading this dough felt a lot like throwing clay. It was more of a watery mess than a cohesive dough, and I was worried that I had somehow messed up and added way too much liquid. The result of my first five minutes of kneading was ending up with dough absolutely coating my fingers:

Ooey gooey. 

Hopefully this will become bread?

After that, I was instructed to stretch and tuck the dough in the bowl for yet another five minutes, which felt really weird. But I was rewarded with this:

Still really sticky, but definitely headed in the right direction. 

I still had one more knead to go, this time on an oiled work surface. Because the dough was so soft, it was actually very therapeutic to work with. Brought me right back to childhood memories of playing with PlayDough. 

Finally, I had something resembling actual bread dough. I plopped it back in my bowl for the first prove. 

Before...

After! That still seems like magic to me.

I then stretched and flattened my dough onto two baking sheets, but I couldn’t help but wonder if baking sheets in the UK are smaller than the cookie sheets I’m used to working with here in the USA, because it felt like I had to get that dough really flat in order to cover the surface area of the sheets.

Time for prove #2!

When I came back an hour later, I hoped that the loaves would have puffed up again, but they didn’t seem to have gained much volume. Still, focaccia isn’t a super puffy bread, so I wasn’t that concerned. I used my fingers to create dimples in the dough for that classic focaccia look and drizzled the loaves with olive oil and salt before popping them in the oven. 

But what about my competition? In watching the episode, I immediately notice that everyone seems concerned about the sticky, watery dough. Many bakers choose to leave out some of the water or add extra flour. I’m relieved that I wasn’t the only one confused by the texture of the dough. 

So. Sticky.

This baking sheet does look smaller than mine. 

It does look like some of the bakers have managed a greater rise during their second prove, which concerns me slightly. 

Nice and puffy...

Look at those fine loaves!

My confidence is slightly restored, however, when Paul immediately chews out the bakers for altering the water content of the dough. “Someone’s been messing with my recipe,” he growls, taking a bite of the first loaf. “Someone thinks Paul Hollywood doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Oof. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Paul Hollywood knows what he’s doing. 

Paul explains that the high amount of water in the dough is crucial to giving the focaccia its distinctive irregular crumb structure when you cut into it. Without that, it’s just regular bread. Here’s a foolishly altered loaf with too much flour:

Boring, normal crumbs.

And here’s this week’s winner, Jo, who despite winning this season of Bake Off has been notoriously terrible so far in the technical challenges:

See those big holes? That’s what we want.

I’m suddenly feeling much better about using all that water. 

Finally, my loaves are ready to come out of the oven. Will they be too regular and bread-y, or will I have achieved perfect imperfection in my crumb structure?

First, here is Paul’s perfect slice:

Look at all those holes. 

Problem number one for me became apparent as soon as I pulled my first loaf out of the oven...

It’s a little scorched. 

It looks like the olive oil pooled and burned in some of the thinner parts of my loaf. Womp womp. Loaf number two, however, looked a lot better, so let’s quickly move on to that:

What other loaf?

I mean, it looks like focaccia to me. But what would Matt think? It should be noted that I hid loaf #1 from him in shame (and let my parents eat it). 

***

Matt’s review: Bread’s one of those things I always took for granted. I wouldn’t assume that bread is one of those tricky things to make. So I’m glad someone told me that it was before I tried Jenna’s focaccia, because she made it look easy. Or like, she wasn’t sweating or anything when I saw her with it. Never eat anything a sweating person gives you. Rules to live by. 

Anyway, this bread was a slam dunk in my book. It had the fun air pockets focaccia needs, the texture was on point, and it tasted great. Also, it looked spot on. Jenna seemed disappointed that the bread wasn’t fluffy enough, but I’m not so sure. Maybe if she made it again she could show me what she meant. Seriously, make this again.

No soggy bottoms here. 

***

Final thoughts: Here’s what my loaf looked like on the inside:

Those are some damn fine irregular holes, if I do say so myself. In fact, my slice looks a lot like winner Jo’s. So I think Paul would have been pleased with my bake, or at least not horribly disappointed. After all, I didn’t add more flour to his sacred recipe. 

But I do think it needed a bit more rise. I think I was a little overzealous with my dimpling, possibly knocking too much air out of my loaves and leading to the olive oil puddling that scorched one of them. But all in all, it looked like focaccia, it tasted like focaccia, and it went down great with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I’ll call that another bread week win. 

[fangirlfitness]

Hi!!! After ages I'm back as I had another question I wanted to ask. I'm going back to college next week and I wanted for advice on eating healthy and also meal prep? Because I know I'll be busy this year but I still want to eat well and stay away from processed foods!

Thanks for coming back! :)

There’s a billionty different diets out there, because there are a billionty people who want your money, but really there are just 3 basic rules for eating clean (courtesy of Michael Pollan):

1. Eat food.

This means veggies, fruits, lean proteins, healthy fats, and whole grains. When you go food shopping, stick to the perimeter of the store - this is where they keep all the refrigerated stuff that can’t sit on shelves for 3 years… So that means it’s real food. Real food has about 1-5 ingredients, and all of them are pronouncable. Only eat stuff with ingredients you can pronounce, and avoid food that has added sugar. If you like making soups, frozen veggies are hella cheap, and easy to throw into a pot (technically frozen stuff is in the middle of the store, but as long as you buy the bags that ONLY have the vegetables (no added sugar or salt) you’re still eating clean). If you’re a lazy cook like me who buys broth instead of making it, make sure the broth has a short list of pronouncable ingredients. Instead of soda, drink sparkling water (and please read the ingredient list to make sure they’re not adding aspartame or other artificial flavors or colors). Instead of the typical chips, buy snacks that have short pronouncable ingredient lists. Or better yet, bring apple slices/cucumber slices/carrots/celery sticks with some nuts/nut butter (and yes nuts and nut butter can have junk added to them, so just read the ingredients of everything…). Greek yogurt is also a fantastic portable snack that’s high in protein, but again, be sure to read those ingredient labels (Trader Joe’s, Chobani, and Fage are all clean brands I know off-hand).

If you’ve got a little more money, I recommend the Orgain Whole Meal protein powder. It’s yummy, loaded with nutrients, free of nasty stuff, and you can throw it in a shaker with milk (either dairy or nondairy) for an easy protein shake to take with you.

If you’ve got more of a “savory-tooth”, I highly recommend these all natural delicious jerky bars - the chicken sriracha is my favorite, and having one on hand has been a lifesaver basically every day…

2. Not too much.

Use salad plates instead of dinner plates, keep your smoothies 8-12oz (basically 1 to 1 ½ cups), and stay tuned into your body during and after eating. There are portion guides you can find online, so if you find those kinds of things helpful, go for it. Personally, I like to just listen to my body, eat slowly, and stop eating when I’m full. Of course I understand that can be hard to do in between classes, so there are adorable stainless steel lunch containers that can help with portion control.

3. Mostly plants.

Plants are so freaking good for you, and naturally have real flavor. Literally the only reason we’re not all coo-coo for cucumbers or growling about how great strawberries are is marketing. There’s no money put into advertising for veggies or fruits, so we forget that they’re real food with real flavor. Most of what we “crave” and think of as having so much flavor is actually flavorless food that has had flavor added to it. For example, take pizza. The crust is flavorless flour that has had salt added to it. The sauce, if it’s real sauce, is basically veggies with seasoning (in other words, a real food). And the cheese is milk (a real food) that has been fermented and seasoned. So remove the fake food from the equation (the crust), and add veggies instead. Put some broccoli on a plate, dribble some 5-ingredient tomato sauce on there, maybe add a little diced garlic, toss on a serving or two of low-fat cheese (fat is NOT bad, but when it comes to dairy the lower-fat option is usually healthier), broil it for a bit, and you got yourself a real meal.

Instead of a sub, remove the top and seeds from a bell pepper, throw some (already cooked) seasoned beef or chicken inside with some cheese, and bake until the cheese is all melty. If you’re vegetarian, quinoa and beans can work too!

Instead of boring old cereal and milk, throw some berries into a bowl with a serving of 5-ingredient granola, a serving of greek yogurt, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a square or two of 5-ingredient dark chocolate. Way more delicious…

If you approach every meal with the mindset of adding as many colors, and therefore as many veggies and fruits, as possible then clean eating will feel very easy very quickly.

(btw I say “5-ingredient” a lot but that’s just to reiterate how important it is to buy foods that have short, pronouncable ingredient lists that are all around 5)

In terms of prep, I honestly don’t do much. I’m a ridiculously lazy cook, so everything I make only involves chopping and throwing in a blender, a pot, or a bowl. I make protein shakes with fruit, protein powder, and greek yogurt. I make veggie soups with chicken broth, toasted sesame oil (but olive oil works too), beans, and whatever veggies I have in the fridge. And I make A LOT of salads…

I regularly chop up a cornucopia of fresh veggies and fruits (mostly sturdier produce, like carrots and beets and kale, so they stay fresh even after being chopped up) in a giant bowl. Then I just throw a portion of that in my lunch container, plus some form of protein (chicken, beans, salmon, etc), and I’m good to go. I end up having to prepare 2 giant salads a week, which isn’t that bad.

If you ever need recipe ideas, Thug Kitchen’s got your back

Also, here’s my shameless plug for the recipe tag on my blog, which has the recipes for the above pictured salad and below pictured smoothie

I hope this helps!!