#peeled carrot cookie

[queen-rainy-love]

Nothing too special. Just some NPCs that could easily be playable characters (maybe some costumes). And this is just my thoughts. You guys can change or tell me I'm completely wrong.

Macaroni and Cheddar Cheese could easily be Support or Ranged Cookies and add to the detective gang we have with Almond. Their skills could be like Almond where it's related to the profession.

Chestnut would be perfect for either a Support or a Healing Cookie and be a cute addition. You can never have enough plus they can wrack the enemies with newspapers. I would think that's hilarious.

Twizzly Gummy's crew has been introduced but nothing has been done with them since. I honestly would have made them playable characters or costumes. It was right there.

Smoked Cheese... C'mon. It would have been amazing to have him as a playable character. Everything was in place, his attack, his skill, and his design. But I guess we didn't need him.

Anyways, these are just my thoughts and opinions. I'm curious on which NPC or Ovenbreak character should be in Kingdom next. Who knows, maybe they already have something planned and we just don't know when.

[nayapolitantrainwreck]

Something is on its way...

[sammywolfgirl]

I’m very normal about the music themed update as a music loving person

Uh but for real I’ve kinda decided that for my au the protagonist slot will be filled by three different critters

Ananas dragon (who’s here to support his son but sniffed out trouble and is now taking it personally)

Cream unicorn (who came to support their friend parfait but saw trouble and wanted to help)

And stardust (who’s just kinda here but somehow ends up helping anyways)

It’s great, stardust got a free t shirt and by the end somehow got it signed by everyone who performed at the festival and he is blissfully unaware of how big a deal that is.

Also note- ananas is actively trying to hide that they’re a dragon because they don’t want to draw attention away from his son the musicians.

Also the Twizzly gang are performing with parfait, while Twizzly and half avocado act as security. Because yeah

[cakezzz]

Did a Redraw of a drawing I made last year!!

This is the new one (left) vs the old one (right)

Also uhhh u wanna listen to my Twizzly gummy cookie/BoM Spotify playlist??? She has a lack of playlists THAT HAVE THE APROPIARE SONGS AGAHAGAH

[yourfandompersn]

Mala sauce cookie: "I don't know how to get them out.."

Twizzly gummy cookie and her band of misfits:

[emissaryofearthbreadofficial]

Since you’ve travelled to other timelines, has anyone visited your timeline that you are aware of?

(For Meri)

I mean, I HAVE seen certain alternate realities, like where my husband ends up with someone else. I've even befriended all his alternate spouses, but they've never visited MY reality, so I guess it doesn't really count.

[quirk-nova]

I want a moodboard for Peeled Carrot Cookie.

“Why's it so HOT?! This is why I hate stupid, sunny weather like this!”

Peeled Carrot Cookie (Cookie Run) aesthetic board for @pretty-princess-pop

[skeletonpendeja]

Shit I been cooking lately

[albonium]

I'm having girl dinner on my hotel balcony tonight wooo (I didn't want to spend 40€ on a meal and risk it being mediocre again. I'd rather go to the supermarket and have something average that might not be phenomenal BUT that I know didn't cost me a lot)

[daeniradraconis]

omg i love your stories so much!!! you're such a great writer. i'm so glad i stumbled onto your fics somehow. can i please request prompt number 10 "i'm pretty low maintenance" with jack hughes?

Thank you so much for your kind words! 💖 I’m so happy you’re enjoying my stories! And thanks for the request! I hope you will love this as well! 😊✨ --- High Maintenance & Low Expectations

“I’m pretty low maintenance.”

Jack leans back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, looking very pleased with himself. He’s wearing a sweater that probably costs more than your rent, and his perfectly styled chestnut waves look like they were arranged by a professional hairstylist rather than just existing naturally. You, on the other hand, are elbow-deep in mashed potatoes, sweating like you’ve just run a marathon. 

The kitchen is a battlefield—flour dusted across the counter, butter slowly melting near the stove, and the unmistakable, sharp scent of something definitely overcooked lingering in the air.

Luke snorts from his spot at the island, where he’s lazily peeling a carrot. He’s managed to peel more of his own skin than the actual vegetable, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. The occasional "aww" and "oops" are the only clues that he’s once again being clumsy with the knife. "That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard," he mutters, barely looking up.

Jack gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m the easiest person to live with.”

You burst out laughing, not even trying to hide it. You jab your wooden spoon in his direction. “Jack, you literally refused to eat a bagel last week because it wasn’t from your ‘preferred’ bakery.”

“Because it wasn’t real cream cheese! It was that weird, low-fat nonsense—”

Luke cuts in, his smirk widening. “Also, you order groceries like you’re a Michelin star chef, but can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm.”

Jack lets out an exaggerated huff, shrugging his shoulders. "I just like quality ingredients," he says, a teasing grin on his face. "Sorry I have taste."

“Ohh, shut up!” you groan, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as you turn toward the stove. The gravy is on the verge of boiling over. You lower the heat, hoping it’s not too late. The turkey’s still in the oven, but the stuffing smells like it’s burning. The mashed potatoes have lumps, and the cranberry sauce—oh god—is now all over the floor. How the hell did that happen?

Luke looks genuinely concerned. “Do you, uh, want help?”

You whip around so fast Jack actually takes a step back. “No. Absolutely not. I need to impress your mom and dad because it's Christmas, and if you two help, this entire meal will end in a flaming disaster.”

Jack blinks, insulted. “I resent that.”

“You once confused salt with sugar when making cookies,” you say, raising an eyebrow like this is a fact everyone should know by now.

Luke winces, his face going pale at the memory. “Oh yeah, that was bad. I could still taste it for days—even after brushing my teeth.” He shudders, as if the very idea still haunts him.

Jack pouts, arms folded defensively. “That was one time.”

“And,” you continue, pointing at Luke, “you somehow managed to burn a salad. A salad Luke!”

Luke goes bright red, practically sinking into the counter. “It was a pasta salad! And you promised you’d never tell anyone!”

Jack’s jaw drops in disbelief. Then a grin creeps across his face. “Dude, how do you even—?”

“Tough luck, Lukey,” you say with a smirk. “Some secrets just aren’t meant to stay buried.”You wave them off with a flick of your wrist. “Again, no help. I’ve got this. Just—just go be useless somewhere else.”

Jack smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead, completely undeterred by the fact that you look like you just ran through a hurricane. “You’re so hot when you’re stressed.”

Luke makes an exaggerated gagging noise. “I’m leaving.”

Jack just grins, like he’s having the time of his life. “Love you, babe.”

You groan, shooing them both out of the kitchen with your spoon, praying to every holiday deity that Ellen and Jim will see the effort you put into this meal and not the absolute disaster it’s turning into.

—

Jim and Ellen finally say their goodbyes, wrapping things up with warm hugs and reassurances that everything was great—despite the cranberry sauce never making it to the table and the turkey being a little on the dry side. You exhale, sinking into a chair at the dining table, swirling your glass of wine, feeling relieved that the dinner is finally over.

Jack, however, has made it his personal mission to ensure you don’t lift a finger for cleanup. “You did everything,” he insists, “now it’s our turn.”

Big mistake.

Luke’s at the sink, sluggishly stacking plates, while Jack wipes down the counters like he's trying to scrub away the entire kitchen with one swipe. The clinking of dishes and the lingering smell of burnt stuffing fill the air.

“Luke, if you’re going to load the dishwasher like that, you might as well toss the plates in the garbage,” Jack says, his voice dripping with mock horror.

Luke rolls his eyes. “It’s not a big deal, dude. They’ll get clean. Chill out!”

Jack gasps, as though Luke has committed a cardinal sin. “You can’t put the knife facing up! That’s how people lose fingers.”

You take a sip of your wine, watching the chaos unfold like it's your own personal reality show. You loved Jack—really, you did—but you couldn’t deny that dealing with him required an extra dose of patience. And you knew Luke well enough to sense he was running low on that.

Luke sighs deeply, way too loudly, as he sets the plates down. Uh-oh. Here it comes. “You are so fucking high-maintenance, dude!”

Jack scoffs, his voice full of offense. “I am not! I just like things done right.” He drops the towel he’s been aggressively wiping the counters with.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “Jack, you rearranged the sponge at least three times.”

Jack crosses his arms, baffled by why his brother finds this so problematic. His genuinely confused expression makes it hard for you to keep a straight face. “It has a drying position and a scrubbing position,” he says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Luke smirks, and you catch that mischievous glint in his eyes. Oh no. You’ve seen that look before. This is the calm before the storm. The smile just before all hell breaks loose.

And then, without warning, Luke flicks a few drops of water at Jack’s face, his grin spreading wider. “Oh, I understand,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I just don’t give a shit about it.”

Jack freezes, staring at him in disbelief. “Did you just—”

Luke, still grinning like a maniac, flicks more water at him. “Oops.”

Jack narrows his eyes, looking way too calm. “Oh, you are so dead, Lukey.”

Before Luke can react, Jack grabs the sprayer from the sink, aiming it at Luke with deadly precision. The stream hits Luke right in the face, and he yelps, ducking behind the island. “HEY! Did you just spray me with the cleaning stuff?!”

Jack laughs, clearly enjoying the chaos, but there's a brief moment where his brow furrows as he watches Luke’s reaction. Luke sticks his tongue out, squinting in disgust at the taste of the rosemary cleaner. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh, that’s disgusting!”

Jack quickly checks the bottle in his hand, his smirk flickering for a moment. “Don’t worry, it’s organic!” he says, his grin widening. “You can thank my high-maintenance nature, you little shit."

“You idiot didn’t even check what you sprayed me with! You just grabbed it!” Luke’s voice is rising with each word.

Jack shrugs, still grinning like he’s just won some kind of battle. “Should’ve thought about that before you disrespected the sponge system!” He winks, patting the sprayer like it’s his prized possession. “Now run!”

Luke, now fuming and ready for payback, spots another bottle on the counter. Without missing a beat, he snatches it up and sprays Jack with it. The organic cleaner hits him right in the chest. The two of them laugh maniacally, both dripping with rosemary-scented spray as they tumble around the kitchen, completely lost in the moment, like a couple of kids in a water fight.

You lean back in your chair, wine glass in hand, watching the chaos unfold. They’re so wrapped up in their little spray battle, you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

“Careful, you’re going to slip on the water or…” you start to warn, but, of course, neither of them listens. No sooner do the words leave your mouth than one of them knocks over a stack of glasses on the counter, the sound of glass shattering echoing through the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, taking another long sip of your wine. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Jack pauses, wiping water off his face, then turns to you with that mischievous grin. He’s soaked and sweaty, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. Slowly, he makes his way toward you, his eyes gleaming with playful confidence. “You love us,” he teases, pulling you close by the waist, before leaning down to kiss you.

You laugh, trying to pull away from the damp mess of him. “Jack! You’re gross! Let me go!”

But he’s persistent, kissing whatever he can reach—your lips, your cheeks, your forehead—his grin never fading. You giggle and squirm away, attempting to escape. But Jack’s not done yet. He grabs your arm to pull you closer, pushing his body against yours, his hips pressing into you.

“You’re not the girl who runs away from a little sweat, sweetheart,” he says between kisses, his voice teasing but affectionate. “I remember when—after practice—you licked…”

You press your hands against his lips, laughing in disbelief at his idiocy. Your face flushes instantly, the heat creeping up your neck. Of course, he just grins wider, that same stupid, adorable grin.

Jack pulls back slightly, his sparkling blue eyes locking with yours. As his hand gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, he brushes his thumb across your cheek. “I love that you do all the wild things with me in the bedroom without hesitation,” he says, his voice still low and tender. “But just mention the most vanilla thing we’ve done, and you turn into a blushing mess. You’re adorable.” His smile softens, his gaze deepening as he looks into your eyes.

Luke, standing off to the side trying to maintain some distance from the kitchen, turns around with a look of pure disgust. He glares at the two of you, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “Oh, no. Not this again. Can’t you two go five minutes without turning everything into a romance movie set?”

You and Jack just giggle, completely unfazed, while Luke dramatically turns his back to you both. “I swear, if I see one more kiss today, I’m going to lose it.”

Jack doesn’t even acknowledge his little brother’s complaint, leaning in for another kiss. And you don’t protest—not really. You’ve always been a sucker for his sweaty, silly kisses, even if Luke’s gagging in the background.

[wndaswife]

Love & Loathing: The First Christmas | Series Masterlist

The holidays feel lonely without your friends and family. Wanda faces her first Christmas after her divorce and miscarriage. The two of you build your first tradition.

Word count: 2635

Tags: some angst, light manipulation, foreshadowing of future toxic relationship as seen in main series, writing this after already writing the main series reminded me of emily im sorry by boygenius! sad!

Wanda’s cart came to an abrupt stop when a young child suddenly ran away from his mother to the other side of the aisle, passing in front of her without warning. Her orange juice lurched forward then fell onto her carrots. 

The child’s mother quickly came over, scolding her son for running in front of a moving cart as he begged her to buy rainbow chip cookies for Santa, oblivious to the fact that Wanda and her full cart were still standing idly behind him, unable to skirt around.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized after giving in to the rainbow chip cookies once her son apologized to Wanda too. He went to place the package in their cart. “Holiday shopping makes them a little wild too, I suppose.” She laughed like she was telling her an inside joke.

Them, like a proper noun.

“Children, yes,” Wanda conceded with a small nod and a smile. “I understand. But rainbow chip is a great pick. Very considerate of Santa’s tastes.” She looked over at the young boy who waited for his mother patiently, then seemed bashful when he made eye contact with Wanda. 

Wanda then noticed the woman’s eyes flicker down to her left hand, barren of a wedding ring, and then to her cart, empty of what a mother would shop for her children for. Wanda dropped her left arm to her side, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

After finishing up her grocery list, she strolled back down the cookie section and picked up a package of the rainbow chip cookies. As she walked to the checkout line, she ran her eyes across her cart — orange juice, the Pillsbury cookies you liked, eggs, milk, bagels, your favourite ice cream flavour, some things for the washroom, baking ingredients for a recipe you’d been wanting to try, some snacks, fruits and vegetables, and the rainbow chip cookies.

She put her left glove on first, then her right, then started to place her things on the conveyor. 

“My kids have been in a baking craze since they got off school,” the cashier told her as she bagged her flour, then her vanilla extract. “It must be the season.”

Wanda looked up from her wallet then smiled. 

“Mine too,” she said.

When she arrived at home, you were sitting at the dining table on your laptop. It was nearing the end of the semester, so you still had a few more final assignments to finish. You stood and helped Wanda unload the groceries.

“Hi, baby,” she greeted once all the bags were on the counter. She reached and placed her palm against your furthest cheek, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple.

“Hi,” you answered with a smile, putting some things away into the fridge. “Did you get the Pillsbury cookies? You saw the holiday ones, right?” 

Wanda handed you the milk. “I did. There were only the snowmen.”

“That’s fine. I just wanted something that was Christmas themed.”

The rainbow chip cookies came out last. Wanda had never tried them, and it wasn’t on the shopping list, and you hadn’t asked for it before. She handed them to you as you stored some things away into the cupboards.

“Do you like these? They were on sale,” she suddenly lied.

You took them from her, eyes running over the package. Then you set it on the counter with a contemplating hum as you peeled it open and looked inside. “Oh, I do like these. I last had them when I was really young.”

After dinner, you resumed working on your laptop, cuddled up beside Wanda on the couch as she flipped through Netflix for something to watch. She had a glass of white wine in hand and an arm around your shoulders, fastening the shared blanket around your body.

You’d been trying to apply for some jobs lately; after declaring a temporary leave from college starting next semester, you wanted to start working a little to make some income and keep yourself busy. You were hoping for something part-time and very casual.

The gold Christmas lights Wanda had hung up around the fireplace and curtains glowed warm, enveloping the living room in something gentle and festive. There wasn’t any other light on aside from the stovetop in the kitchen, so the laptop screen felt particularly intrusive.

“What are you working on?” she asked, putting her phone down and looking down at you from the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

“A final essay. It’s pretty overdue.”

Wanda eyed the tabs you were switching between. “Overdue? Online courses not working well?”

“I thought it might be better for me but…” you trailed off, your fingers pausing atop the keyboard. Your index finger tapped ever so slightly against the E key, just enough to make the plastic sound against the board.

“Is something on your mind…?” Wanda asked, setting the remote down. She craned her neck down and brushed her nose against your cheek.

Your fingernail traced the top edge of the D key. “It just feels like I’m always behind. I keep trying to change things around so maybe I might find something I can finally get accustomed to — online courses, a lesser course load.”

Then, quietly, you added, “My friends don’t even ask to study with me anymore. I know I declared a leave, but...” 

The Christmas lights reflected against Wanda’s glass, and against the pale golden hue of her wine, it looked like she was drinking champagne, slightly flat. 

She set the glass on the coffee table then carefully closed your laptop, allowing you to remove your hands from the keyboard. She placed it down, closed, beside her wine. Instinctively, you curled up and leaned your head against her chest, and Wanda wrapped both arms around you, one hand coming to cradle the side of your head.

Before she could say anything, you said, “They invited me out to the Christmas market downtown a few days ago.”

Something tightened in Wanda’s stomach and she looked down at you, but your face was covered by your hair and some of the blanket which was wrapped around her arms. 

“Really? You didn’t tell me,” she said. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say at first.”

“Say to whom? To them or me?”

“I don’t know…” you muttered quietly. “Both.”

Wanda’s hand tightened around your shoulder. You buried your cheek against her chest, feeling like she was holding you tighter against her. Instead, Wanda felt tense; the idea that you could feel about her in any similar way that you did for your friends made her feel like she was just as disposable and temporary.

“Did you go…?” Wanda asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding strained as she feared the answer might be that, yes, you did make plans and see other people in your life without telling her.

If your feelings of uncertainty were the same between her and your friends, and you ended up seeing them and not telling her, wasn’t that the same as you picking them over her? Leaving her behind like some afterthought, only to come up later when you felt a little insecure about something?

You shook your head, and Wanda took a breath through her nose, tension in her lungs dissipating. Then you lifted yourself from her chest and reached for your phone. Wanda pulled you back against her when you leaned back, but now your head was on her shoulder instead of her chest so you could both look at your phone screen together.

You showed her a picture on Instagram of your friends together at the market. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Wanda said, brushing her nose against your temple then kissing your cheek. “But you wouldn’t have really enjoyed yourself if you were with them, would you?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled, eyes still on the screen, obviously not really caring what she was saying, and still feeling rather down about it.

Wanda bit the side of her tongue a little at your passive insistence that you still cared about the fact that they hung out without you. “Baby, you always say that you don’t really feel like you fit in when you’re with them. Don’t you say that…?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did we do that day, anyway? We went shopping for decorations, right? And got dinner? Wasn’t that much more fun?”

You nodded and looked up. 

Wanda felt her breath hitch and snag in her throat when you met her eyes. She swallowed, wondering what you might be thinking when you looked at her like that. 

“I… I’m really happy we’re spending the holidays together,” you said quietly. Your phone dimmed then locked, the image of your friends forgotten. 

Her lungs filled with air and her expanding rib cage pushed gently against your upper arm.

“Me too, Y/N.”

A warm hand cupped your cheek, smooth fingers brushing against your soft skin. She looked over your face in great detail. 

When the thought came over her, wondering what similarities you held in comparison to your mother and father, Wanda looked away. She reached over to get her wine glass then settled back against your side.

You leaned your head on her shoulder and Wanda rested her chin on top of it. 

“Any movie you’d like to watch?” she asked, combing her fingers through your hair. 

You reached for the remote and turned on the TV. 

Early the next morning, you sleepily padded downstairs to see Wanda setting up the Christmas tree in the living room. She was still in her pajamas, but she had a sweater on and her hair was clipped back. 

When you stepped off from the stairs, Wanda turned around to greet you with a smile. She outreached an arm for you to come over and give her a hug. 

Wanda thought you were rather light on your feet; you would sometimes sneak up on her when you’d enter a room. It was a stark contrast to Vision, who was quite tall, and seemed to always walk with the frustrating burden that he’d woken into another day, living the same life as he did the day prior.

It was the recollection of painful memories like that, ones where you’d no doubt see her as a spineless, empty woman, that made Wanda all the more confident in her decision to keep truths about Vision from you. She wanted to be someone different, and better.

You walked over and wrapped your arms around her waist, tucking your head under her chin before she kissed your forehead. 

“You started putting up the tree without me?” you asked, lifting your head and looking up at her.

“Oh,” Wanda replied, turning her head to look at the tree. She had only just started with the ornaments, and the cardboard box she stored the tree in was still on the floor.

She looked back down at you.

“You want to help?”

You nodded and pulled away from her before digging through the box of ornaments to begin decorating. “You shouldn’t ever decorate a Christmas tree alone unless you’re actually by yourself.”

Wanda smiled at your boldness as she watched you from behind. She pinched your side playfully, causing you to flinch away. She wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into her, pressing a kiss to your neck and causing you to giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. Then you shooed her away so you could continue with what you were doing. 

Wanda hadn’t ever decorated with anyone else; Vision wasn’t very festive, and when she was younger, her family often travelled for work, leaving her and Pietro to celebrate alone with the company of their neighbour who watched over them.

Their neighbour was a strict elderly man who didn’t speak much English and slept most of the time, whose dialect was that which only their parents understood, and was never taught to Wanda nor Pietro. Her memories of Christmas as a jointly-celebrated holiday was reminiscent of bitter black tea, imported from her neighbour’s hometown overseas, and television on its lowest volume in the late evening, playing old holiday sitcoms.

“My parents and I got in a fight a few days ago,” you said suddenly, still hanging up ornaments.

Wanda looked at you as she adjusted the position of some of them she’d put up earlier. She thought for a moment before responding, “Is everything okay?”

“It’s okay,” you answered.

You’d been having a hard time with your parents the past few months. They were upset you’d taken a temporary leave from your schooling without consulting with them first, they were upset you’d been spending so much time with someone they’d never met, and they were upset that you hadn’t been speaking with them.

You still had a large sum of money left from when you worked more often than you attended classes, and so you were rather glad not to rely on them for any financial support, not that you often spent money while being at home with Wanda.

The change, according to them — and according to you, too — had seemingly come out of the blue. But, still, you could pinpoint when it started.

After meeting Wanda, all you wanted to do was run away from things. You wanted to run from your parents, who’d always babied you and never gave you your own choice in anything, and from school, and from your friends, and from the world.

To word it more accurately, you’ve always wanted to run away from things. 

And Wanda let you. 

She took you away and kept you safe.

You hung an ornament on the tree, and instead of leaning down to take another out of the box, your arms stilled at your sides and you looked down at the floor. 

After a moment of silence while Wanda was busy reaching up to hang an ornament close to the top, you asked quietly, “Is it okay if I spend Christmas with you…?”

Looking up from the floor, you met Wanda’s eyes.

Wanda felt her breath hitch at the sight of you looking at her that way — expectantly, patiently, like what she said mattered to you a great deal. She leaned down and placed the ornament back in the box. She stepped towards you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “Of course, baby,” she answered quietly, speaking against the side of your head. “Let’s stay home for the holidays — just the two of us.”

By next week, your gifts for Wanda were wrapped and stored under the tree. You mixed them in along with the ones she’d gotten for you, so you could see them altogether.

Wanda was still at work, staying a bit later tonight, so you went out to walk through the Christmas market downtown on your own. You saw a beautiful jade hair clip that you thought would look perfect on her; you imagined the shade of green tucked within the brown of her hair, bringing out the green in her eyes, and her delicate fingers wrapping around the handle to clip it in.

Wrapped in a small box, you crouched down and placed it on top of a gift Wanda wrapped for you.

When she came back from work, Wanda found you dozing on the couch in the living room with a blanket draped around you. You were bathed in the gentle light of the Christmas tree that you’d put up together.

She quietly put her things down before approaching your delicate sleeping figure. She crouched down and carefully brushed your hair out of your face, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m home, my angel,” she whispered softly, a smile growing on her face as she watched you awaken slowly.

[7s3ven]

TF 141 + THEIR FAV CHRISTMAS ACTIVITY W/ YOU.

( master list )

John Price - gift wrapping

Price has perfected the art of wrapping Christmas presents and although he loves you with all his heart… he can’t say the same about you. It’s easy to tell who wrapped whose gift based on whether the paper is neat or scrunched up.

You’ve never had the talent for gift wrapping, choosing to fold the paper in random directions instead. As long as it covers the gift itself, it’s good enough.

You know Price hates your wrapping technique so it’s no surprise that you find him downstairs on Christmas Eve, frantically rewrapping your gifts.

“John, honey, couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” You rub your eyes as you stop at the top of the stairs. You see Price freeze before he slowly turns his head to face you.

“John? Never heard of him. I’m… Santa Claus?”

You send him a deadpan look. “John, get your ass back in bed now. I need something to hug.” You retreat back to your shared bed, waiting for your husband.

It takes him two minutes to rush back into the room, peel off his shirt, and climb back under the covers.

Peaceful silence engulfs the room until Price parts his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to take that gift wrapping class?” He utters. You lightly slap his shoulder in response.

Simon Riley - decorating the tree and car

Simon has always preferred a more quiet atmosphere where he can tend to his thoughts. He knows how much you adore Christmas so he tries his best to enjoy the holiday without feeling overwhelmed. You quickly realized that Simon hated stepping out of his comfort zone, hence why you suggested Christmas activities that catered towards his silent personality.

This included decorating the tree. Simon was at peace for once as the fire crackled in the background while he effortlessly lifted you up, allowing you to place a few ornaments at the top of the tree.

He liked minimalistic designs, not a huge fan of chaos like Jonny was. That’s why your tree only had ornaments that represented a particular moment. There was a red jewelled sphere that Simon had bought for you two years ago and a small framed picture of the two of you cuddled up on a couch (taken by Kyle).

Strangely enough, Simon yearned to decorate something else after the tree was complete. Thus, he moved onto the car.

John (Johnny) Mctavish - building an army of snow men

Between decorating every surface of your shared house and having an endless supply of nutmeg, Johnny’s favourite activity is building snowmen. Or rather, snow creatures. He is the epitome of ‘do you wanna build a snowman?’. In fact, you’re sure he’s blasted that song enough during a cold winter day that it’ll be on his Spotify wrapped.

Sometimes Johnny creates cute snow sculptures, like the adorable bear you were sitting beside that almost felt like a pet. Other times, he’s building questionable ones. You watch as Johnny wraps a scarf around his newly made (and rather lopsided) snowman.

“Johnny, love, what is that?” You call out as you absentmindedly pick up a handful of snow.

Johnny grins as he sticks a carrot in the middle of its face, proudly showing you his newest snowman. “It looks like Simon, don’t you think?”

If you squint enough and tilt your head at a specific angle, the snowman doesn’t look as goofy. “Sure, whatever floats your boat.” You offer Johnny a reassuring smile to hide the fact that the snowman does not resemble Simon Riley in any way.

Kyle Garrick - baking

One thing Kyle loves more than eating your Christmas cookies is helping you make them. He has a soft spot for seeing you in an apron and focused on mixing the dough.

“Kyle, can you find the cookie cutters for me?” You ask, blinking up at him innocently. He sends you a charming grin, immediately opening every drawer he can get his hands on.

It takes him half an hour to actually find the cookie cutters and by then, you’re done with the dough.

“Took you long enough.” You laugh at him, pinching his muscled bicep. Kyle finds joy in using the cookie cutters to create different shapes; trees, snowflakes, reindeer. But his absolute favourite part is decorating.

He has a knack for adding too many sprinkles, leaving little to no cookie left. Nevertheless, when you plate the treats, you make sure to put his creations in the middle.

“They look cute, love.” You say as you softly kiss his nose. He knows you’re lying but he doesn’t really care, not when your hands are running through his hair and you’re peppering his face with smooches.

[gremlingottoosilly]

imagining a scenario where Mrs. König packs her husband’s lunch so he can take it to work (or like, he can take it with him on the day he’s deployed, if that makes sense)

and like, she spoils him for lunch. literally

cuts the crusts off his sandwiches

peels his orange

little fancy shapes for his fruit??? you bet

those gummy snacks and cookies??? absolutely

and can’t forget, a lovely note (maybe even a very explicit photo >wink wink<)

and keep it up, now König expects his lunch made by Mrs. König!!!!

which is her evil plan all along because i bet one day when she’s incredibly angry when she makes his lunch…

and he opens to find:

sandwich crusts ON.

n o c o o k i e

orange is orange. unpeeled

no notes of love

fruit is fruit shaped. not dino shaped :(

now König can spend three months of deployment thinking about his actions.

I recently got addicted to those lunch box videos on TikTok, anon, I AM INVESTED!! Just being Konig's housewife, having the prettiest apron with some cute frills all around, with laces and little ribbons everywhere - it's not really practical, but you have a huge collection of those and you can afford to make them a bit messy, and dirty. You don't have a lot of things to do at home, watching TV and sitting on your laptop gets boring after the first few weeks, especially when Konig has desk duty and leaves the house for the whole day instead of spending time with you or getting on facetime while on his mission. You're cooking for him, take out so so many lunchbox ideas!! Spend too much money on various lunchboxes, on different designs, and all of those cute things you can use to cut bread and fruits, to make some elaborate shapes and slowly engage your husband to eat cute stuff instead of just sliding his card to get some slop on the base( Everyone is so so so jealous of him, he is getting rice balls with nice seasonings and little seaweed cutouts that make it look like pandas, he is having all of those cute shapes for his apples and carrots!! That giant three-story boxed with ice and metal sections...and then it all suddenly stops.

He is not just getting a dry and cold sandwich - they are literally just covered in their shop packaging, you don't even bother to cook for him anymore. sometimes you miss the days entirely, leaving him to return to the base kitchen and find out that he is unable to eat here anymore because he just knows he messed up and you're mad at him( this is the only way you can get to him - Konig isn't a cruel husband, even though he keeps you locked in the house, but he is a pretty dense one, ignoring your wishes and often making you beg for even the slightest of privileges, like getting out of the house to do your garden, or go to some nice cafes and actually see people. He will apologize profusely, knowing how much he hurt you( his heart still in the wrong place, he don't understand why would you want to join some dumb book club when you can spend time at home, but he is forced to allow you to go out, just so he could see his pretty housewife smiling again, caring for him like a proper girl should

[sammywolfgirl]

I wanna draw more neon hellscape cookies but my brain defaulted to memes

No I didn’t forget to draw Twizzly at first and made the second doodle to pretend this was on purpose shush

[cakezzz]

Demon days

[minotaurapologist]

Bunny thanksgiving!!! Yes I spent significantly longer on this than our actual human food!!!!!

From left to right:

•cranberry orange relish (cranberries, clementine peel, and a slice of clementine)

•salad (various greens and a tomato)

• pumpkin pie; the crust is pellets, hay and apple that were blended, shaped in a tinfoil mold and baked, and then filled with pumpkin

•cookies made with leftover crust

• herbed carrots

•barley stuffing (cooked barley, herbs, celery, apple, and carrots)

•sweet potato casserole (blended sweet potato peel, carrot and clementine peel, topped with dry barley)

•green bean casserole (no green beans so made with peas and lettuce, I blended some cooked barley to mix everything together and topped with dry rose petals)