#Cherry pit cookie

[mtsodie]

ponies and ponies . and also ponies . and ponies again

( pt 2 )

#mlp #mlp fim #mlp ocs #mlp oc #ocs #fairy glow #blossom bliss #cookie dough #cotton wisp #tangy #goodie goodie gumdrops #strawberry sparkle #carrot slice #bumble belle #cherry pit #most of these are name generator ones that i made designs out of ... some are from a mlp birthday name thingy . like the facebook kind #🎨 #JESUS that is a shitload of tags . good lird #anyways . if yall have questions about any of them . pleasies ask im so obsessed with these guys

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Two plates of cookies, one oval and topped with powdered sugar, and the others shaped in rings; one cookie is broken in half to show a date filling; two glasses of coffee on a silver tray are in the background. End ID]

معمول فلسطيني / Ma’moul falastini (Palestinian semolina cookies)

Ma’moul (also transliterated “ma’amoul,” “maamoul” and “mamoul”) are sweet pastries made with semolina flour and stuffed with a date, walnut, or pistachio filling. The cookies are made tender and crumbly with the addition of fat in the form of olive oil, butter, or clarified butter (سمن, “samn”); delicate aromatics are added by some combination of fennel, aniseed, mahlab (محلب: ground cherry pits), mastic gum (مستكه, “mistīka”), and cinnamon.

“مَعْمُول” means  “made,” “done,” “worked by hand,” or “excellently made” (it is the passive participle of the verb “عَمِلَ” “‘amila,” "to do, make, perform"). Presumably this is because each cookie is individually filled, sealed, and shaped by hand. Though patterned molds known as طوابع (“ṭawābi’,” “stamps”; singular طابع, “ṭābi’”) are sometimes used, the decorations on the surface of the cookies may also be applied by hand with the aid of a pair of small, specialized tongs (ملقط, “milqaṭ”).

Because of their laborious nature, ma’moul are usually made for feast days: they are served and shared for Eid, Easter, and Purim, a welcome reward after the Ramadan or Lenten fasts. For this reason, ma’moul are sometimes called “كَعْك العيد” (“ka’k al-’īd,” “holiday cakes”). Plates of the cookies, whether homemade or store-bought, are passed out and traded between neighbors in a practice that is part community-maintenance, part continuity of tradition, and part friendly competition. This indispensable symbol of celebration will be prepared by the women of a family even if a holiday falls around the time of a death, disaster, or war: Palestinian food writer Laila El-Haddad explains that "For years, we endured our situation by immersing ourselves in cooking, in our routines and the things we could control."

Other names for these cakes exist as well. Date ma’moul–the most common variety in Palestine–may be called كَعْك بعَجْوَة (“ka'k b'ajwa”), “cakes with date paste.” And one particular Palestinian variety of ma’moul, studded with sesame and nigella seeds and formed into a ring, are known as كَعْك أَسَاوِر‎ (“ka'k 'asāwir”), “bracelet cakes.” The thinner dough leads to a cookie that is crisp and brown on the outside, but gives way to a soft, chewy, sweet filling.

[ID: An extreme close-up on one ka'k al-aswar, broken open to show the date filling; ma'moul and a silver teapot are very out-of-focus in the background. End ID]

History

Various sources claim that ma’moul originated in Egypt, with their ancestor, كحك (kaḥk), appearing in illustrations on Pharaonic-era tombs and temples. The more specific of these claims usually refer to “temples in ancient Thebes and Memphis,” or more particularly to the vizier Rekhmire’s tomb in Thebes, as evidencing the creation of a pastry that is related to modern kahk. One writer attests that this tomb depicts “the servants mix[ing] pure honey with butter on the fire,” then “adding the flour by mixing until obtaining a dough easy to transform into forms” before the shaped cookies were “stuffed with raisins or dried dates and honey.” Another does not mention Rekhmire, but asserts that “18th-dynasty tombs” show “how honey is mixed with butter on fire, after which flour is added, turning the substance into an easily-molded dough. These pieces are then put on slate sheets and put in the oven; others are fried in oil and butter.”

Most of these details seem to be unfounded. Hilary Wilson, summarizing the state of current research on Rekhmire’s tomb, writes that the depicted pastries were delivered as an offering to the Treasury of the Temple of Amun; that they certainly contained ground tiger nuts; that they presumably contained wheat or durum flour, since ground tiger nuts alone would not produce the moldable dough illustrated; that the liquid added to this mixture to form the dough cannot be determined, since the inscription is damaged; that the cakes produced “are clearly triangular and, when cooked are flat enough to be stacked” (any appearance that they are pyramidal or conical being a quirk of ancient Egyptian drawing); that they were shallow-fried, not cooked in an oven; and that honey and dates are depicted at the far left of the scene, but their relationship to the pastries is unclear. There is no evidence of the honey being included in the dough, or the cookies being stuffed with dates; instead, Wilson speculates that “It appears that the cooks are preparing a syrup or puree of dates and honey. It is tempting to think that the cakes or pastries were served [...] with a generous portion of syrup poured over them.” Whether there is any direct lineage between these flat, fried pastries and the stuffed, molded, and baked kahk must also be a matter of speculation. [1]

Another origin claim points to ancient Mesopotamia. James David Audlin speculates that ma’moul are "possibly" the cousins of hamantaschen, both being descended from the molded "kamānu cakes that bore the image of [YHWH’s] goddess wife Inanna [also known as Ishtar or Astarte]" that were made in modern-day Syria. Other claims for Mesopotamia cite qullupu as the inspiration: these cakes are described in the contemporary record as wheat pastries filled with dates or raisins and baked. (Food historian Nawal Nasrallah writes that these cookies, which were offered to Ishtar for the new year festival in spring, may also be an origin point for modern Iraqi كليچة, "kleicha.")

The word "määmoul" had entered the English language as a type of Syrian farina cake by 1896.

In Palestine

From its earliest instantiations, Zionist settlement in Palestine was focused on building farming infrastructure from which Palestinians could be excluded: settlers, incentivized by foreign capital, aimed at creating a separate economy based around farms, agricultural schools, communal settlements, and research institutions that did not employ Arabs (though Arab labor and goods were never entirely cut out in practice).

Zionist agricultural institutes in Palestine had targeted the date as a desirable crop to be self-sufficient in, and a potentially profitable fruit for export, by the 1930s. Ben-Zion Israeli (בנציון ישראלי), Zionist settler and founder of the Kinneret training farm, spoke at a 1939 meeting of the Organization of Fruit Growers (ארגון מגדלי פירות) in the Nahalel (נהלל) agricultural settlement to discuss the future of date palms in the “land of Israel.” He discussed the different climate requirements of Egyptian, Iraqi, and Tunisian cultivars—and which among them seemed “destined” (נועדים) for the Jordan Valley and coastal plains—and laid out his plan to collect saplings from surrounding countries for planting despite their prohibitions against such exports.

In the typical mode of Zionist agriculture discourse, this speech dealt in concepts of cultivation as a means of coming into a predestined ownership over the land; eating food suited for the climate as a means of belonging in the land; and a return to Biblical history as a triumphant reclamation of the land from its supposed neglect and/or over-cultivation by Palestinian Arabs over the past 2,000 years. Israeli opened:

נסתכל לעברה של הארץ, אשר אנו רוצים להחיותה ולחדשה. היא השתבחה ב"שבעה מינים" ואלה עשוה אינטנסיבית וצפופת אוכלוסין. לא רק חיטה ושעורה, כי אם גם עצים הנותנים יבול גדול בעל ערך מזוני רב. בין העצים -- הזית [...] הגפן, התאנה והתמר. לשלושה מהם, לזית, לתאנה ולתמר חטאה התישבותנו שאין היא נאחזת בהם אחיזה ציםכר של ממש ואינה מפתחת אותם דים.

We will look to the past of the land [of Israel], which we want to revive and renew. It excelled in "seven species," and these flourished and became densely populated. Not only wheat and barley, but also trees that give a large and nutritious crop. Among the trees: the olive, [...] the vine, the fig and the date. For three of them, the olive, the fig and the date, it is the sin of our settlement that it does not hold on to them with a strong grip and does not develop them.

He continued to discuss the benefits of adopting the date—not then part of the diet of Jewish settlers—to “health and economy” (בריאות וכלכלה). Not only should the “land of Israel” become self-sufficient (no longer importing dates from Egypt and Iraq), but dates should be grown for export to Europe.

A beginning had already been made in the importation of about 8,000 date palm saplings over the past two decades, of which ¾ (according to Israeli) had been brought by Kibbutz Kinneret, and the remaining ¼ by the settlement department of the Zionist Commission for Palestine (ועד הצירים), by the Mandate government's agriculture department, and by people from Degania Bet kibbutz ('דגניה ב). The majority of these imports did not survive. More recently, 1000 smuggled saplings had been planted in Rachel’s Park (גן רחל), in a nearby government plot, and in various places in the Jordan Valley. Farms and agricultural institutions would need to collaborate in finding farmers to plant dates more widely in the Beit-Sha’an Valley (בקעת בית שאן), and work to make dates take their proper place in the settlements’ economies.

These initial cuttings and their descendents survive in large plantations across “Israel” and the occupied Palestinian territories. Taher Herzallah and Tarek Khaill write that “Palm groves were planted from the Red Sea in the south along the Dead Sea, and as far as the Sea of Galilee up north, which has given the Israeli date industry its nickname ‘the industry of the three seas’” Since Israel occupied the Palestinian West Bank in 1967, it has also established date plantations in its illegal settlements in that portion of the Jordan Valley.” Today, these settlements produce between 40 and 60% of all Israeli dates.

In 2022, Israel exported 67,042 tons of dates worth $330.1 million USD; these numbers have been on a steady rise from 4,909 tons worth $1.2m. in 1993. Palestinian farmers and their children, disappropriated from their land and desperate for income, are brought in to date plantations to work for long hours in hazardous conditions for low pay. Workers are lifted into the date palms by cranes where they work, with no means of descending, until the crane comes to lower them down again at the end of the day. Injuries from falls, pesticides, heat stroke, and date-sorting machinery are common.

Meanwhile, settlers work to curtail and control Palestinian production of dates. The Palestinian population in the West Bank and Gaza is used as a pool of cheap labor and a captive market to purchase Israeli imports, absorb excesses in Israeli goods, stabilize Israeli wages, and make up for market deficits. Thus Palestinian date farmers may be targeted with repressive measures such as water contamination and diversion, destruction of wells, crop destruction, land theft, military orders forbidding the planting of trees, settler attacks, closing of checkpoints and forbidding of exports, and the denial of necessary equipment or the means to make it, in part to ensure that their goods do not compete with those of Israeli farmers in domestic or foreign markets. Leah Temper writes that these repressive measures are part of a pattern whereby Israel tries to “stop [Palestinian] growth in high value crops such as strawberries, avocados and dates, which are considered to be ‘Israeli Specialties’.”

At other times, Palestinian farmers may be ordered to grow certain crops (such as strawberries and dates), and forbidden to grow anything else, when Israeli officials fear falling short of market demand for a certain good. These crops will be exported by Israeli firms, ensuring that the majority of profits do not accrue to Palestinians, and that Palestinians will not have the ability to negotiate or fulfill export contracts themselves. Nevertheless, Palestinian farmers continue to defy these oppressive conditions and produce dates for local consumption and for export. Zuhair al-Manasreh founded date company Nakheel Palestine in 2011, which continues production despite being surrounded by Israeli settlements.

Boycotts of Israeli dates have arisen in response to the conditions imposed on Palestinian farmers and workers. Herzallah and Khaill cite USDA data on the effectiveness of boycott, pressure, and flyering campaigns initiated by groups including American Muslims for Palestine:

Israel’s exports of dates to the US have dropped significantly since 2015. Whereas 10.7 million kilogrammes (23.6 million pounds) of Israeli dates entered the US market in 2015-2016, only 3.1 million kilogrammes (seven million pounds) entered the US market in 2017-2018. The boycott is working and it is having a detrimental effect on the Israeli date industry.

Date products may not be BDS-compliant even if they are not labeled as a product of Israel. Stores may repackage dates under their own label, and exporters may avoid declaring their dates to be a product of Israel, or even falsely label them as a product of Palestine, to avoid boycotts. Purchase California dates, or dates from a known Palestinian exporter such as Zaytoun or Yaffa (not “Jaffa”) dates.

[ID: Close-up of the top of ma'moul, decorated with geometric patterns and covered in powdered sugar, in strong light and shadow. End ID]

Elsewhere

Other efforts to foreground the provenance and political-economic context of dates in a culinary setting have been made by Iraqi Jew Michael Rakowitz, whose store sold ma’moul and date syrup and informed patrons about individual people behind the hazardous transport of date imports from Iraq. Rakowitz says that his project “utilizes food as a point of entry and creates a different platform by which people can enter into conversation.”

[1] Plates from the tomb can be seen in N. de G. Davies, The tomb of Rekh-mi-Rē at Thebes, Vol. II, plates XLVII ff.

Purchase Palestinian dates

Donate to evacuate families from Gaza

Flyer campaign for eSims

Ingredients:

Makes 16 large ma'moul and 32 ka'k al-aswar; or 32 ma'moul; or 64 ka'k al-aswar.

For the dough:

360g (2 1/4 cup) fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم / طحين فرخة)

140g (1 cup + 2 Tbsp) white flour (طحين ابيض)

200g (14 Tbsp) margarine or vegetarian ghee (سمن), or olive oil

2 Tbsp (15g) powdered sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp (10g) dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

1/2 tsp (2g) instant yeast

About 2/3 cup (190mL) water, divided (use milk if you prefer)

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

1 tsp toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Using olive oil and water for the fat and liquid in the dough is more of a rural approach to this recipe; ghee and milk (or milk powder) make for a richer cookie.

To make the bracelets easy to shape, I call for the inclusion of 1 part white flour for every 2 parts semolina (by volume). If you are only making molded cookies and like the texture of semolina flour, you can use all semolina flour; or vary the ratio as you like. Semolina flour will require more added liquid than white flour does.

For the filling:

500g pitted Madjoul dates (تمر المجهول), preferably Palestinian; or date paste

2 Tbsp oil or softened margarine

3/4 tsp dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

3/4 tsp ground cinnamon

5 green cardamom pods, toasted, skins removed and ground; or 1/4 tsp ground cardamom

Small chunk nutmeg, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

10 whole cloves, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground cloves

The filling may be spiced any way you wish. Some recipes call for solely dugga ka'k (or fennel and aniseed, its main components); some for a mixture of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and/or cloves; and some for both. This recipe gives an even balance between the pungency of fennel and aniseed and the sweet spiciness of cinnamon and cloves.

Palestinian date brands include Ziyad, Zaytoun, Hasan, and Jawadir. Palestinian dates can also be purchased from Equal Exchange. You can find them online or at a local halal market. Note that an origin listed as "West Bank" does not indicate that a date company is not Israeli, as it may be based in a settlement. Avoid King Solomon, Jordan River, Mehadrin, MTex, Edom, Carmel Agrexco, Arava, and anything marked “exported by Hadiklaim”. Also avoid supermarket brands, as the origin of the dates may not be clearly marked or may be falsified to avoid boycots.

Instructions:

For the dough:

1. Melt margarine in a microwave or saucepan. Measure flours into a large mixing bowl and pour in margarine; mix thoroughly to combine. Rub flours between your hands for a few minutes to coat the grains in margarine. The texture should resemble that of coarse sad. Refrigerate the mixture overnight, or for up to 3 days.

2. Add dry ingredients to dough. If making both molded ma'moul and ka'k al-aswar, split the dough in half and add sesame and nigella seeds to one bowl.

3. Add water to each dough until you get a smooth dough that does not crack apart when formed into a ball and pressed. Press until combined and smooth, but do not over-knead—we don't want a bready texture. Set aside to rest while you make the filling.

For the filling:

1. Pit dates and check the interiors for mold. Grind all ingredients to a paste in a food processor. You may need to add a teaspoon of water, depending on the consistency of your dates.

To shape the cookies:

Divide the filling in half. One half will be used for the ma'moul, and the other half for the bracelets.

For the ma'moul:

1. With wet hands, pinch off date filling into small chunks about the size of a walnut (13-16g each, depending on the size of your mold)—or roll filling into a long log and divide into 16-20 even pieces with a dough scraper. Roll each piece of filling into a ball between your palms.

2. Divide the dough (the half without seeds) into the same number of balls as you have balls of filling, either using a kitchen scale or rolling into a log and cutting.

3. Form the dough into a cup shape. Place a ball of filling in the center, and fold the edges over to seal. Press the dough into a floured ma'moul mold to shape, then firmly tap the tip of the mold on your work surface to release; or, use a pair of spiked tweezers or a fork to add decorative designs by hand.

4. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

For the ka'k al-aswar:

1. With wet hands, divide the date filling into about 32 pieces (of about 8g each); they should each roll into a small log about the size of your pinkie finger.

2. Divide the dough (the half with the seeds) into as many pieces as you have date logs.

3. Take a ball of dough and flatten it into a thin rectangle a tiny bit longer than your date log, and about 3 times as wide. Place the date log in the center, then pull the top and bottom edges over the log and press to seal. Seal the ends.

4. Roll the dough log out again to produce a thin, long rope a little bit thinner at the very ends than at the center. Press one side of the rope over the other to form a circle and press to seal.

5. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

To bake:

1. Bake ma'moul at 350 °F (175 °C) in the center of the oven for about 20 minutes, until very lightly golden brown. They will continue to firm up as they cool.

2. Increase oven heat to 400 °F (205 °C) and bake ka'k al-aswar in the top third of the oven for about 20 minutes, until golden brown.

Sprinkle cookies with powdered sugar, if desired. Store in an airtight container and serve with tea or coffee, or give to friends and neighbors.

#Palestinian #cookies #baking #Eid #long post /

[themotherofhorses]

Hi author first of wanted to say I love your work !

I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't feel free to delete this 💛

Modern spy Aemond x naive reader [ Aemond meets her when he's on a mission and becomes obsessed with her how can someone be so sweet and innocent !? He just has to have her also baby trapping and smut if you're comfortable writing it ]

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

pairing: modern spy!aemond targaryen x naive!reader

warnings: explicit language. stalking. very much nsfw smut. once again, aemond is an obsessive and pussywhipped little bitch with zero thoughts within his pretty knocker. manipulation. innocence kink. breeding kink/baby trapping at the end.

notes: hi, yes, this is me coursing through uncharted and absolutely fucking rough waters in some attempt to spice up my usual smut writing style

(aka me practicing for the next chapter of my modern series)

masterlist

A career life built solely around espionage (or a sort of black shadow warfare mixed with cold combat) came dirty, bloody, and uncertain.

Or, at least, that was what Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen would tell himself on the daily, in some attempt at justifying the ends to the means. Really, this entire situation could have been a lot worse, he thought- after all, the lives of countless innocent civilians could have been caught within his crosshairs. He hated when that happened; it was always so messy, and came with heavy and boring paperwork.

However, that was not the case this time, thankfully.

It was only one innocent civilian in his hands, and she was still safe and sound.

Aemond had never meant to stick around the city for so long, having other missions queued up after this one, but fuck…you were perfect. Godsent, the prettiest and most delicious slice of heaven above, and he did not consider himself a godly man, nowhere near in the slightest. The gods loathed his type, he knew, and never hesitated in casting them all down to the pits of hell.

But you…

He had met you during the mission, while stuck undercover at some random little café on the corner street. The boss sent him to stake out some old-money and big-named crime mobster that was allegedly dealing weapons and various drugs under the noses of local law enforcement, a suspect on their “Most Wanted” board. And you- well, you were tucked away in a small booth, hunched over two thick college textbooks while multiple paper assignments laid strewed across the table top, so unaware of his presence sitting tables away on the other side of the room.

Gods, you were absolutely gorgeous, he thought. So fucking pretty, with those eyelashes and charm bracelet and focused look on your face. It made him forget all about his original mission. Fuck that, he has a new one now. And there was the cutest pout on your pink and glossy lips that made his cock harden, despite not having the faintest clue on what your name could be.

(That itself was no concern of his, he could find it out later in the evening. And he eventually did.)

You were there at the café the following day, and the day after that. Always with your head in those damn school books, his pretty and dutiful schoolgirl. The sight made him chuckle, and smile, and fill with the strongest urge to ruin you completely with his mouth, and fingers, and cock. On the fifth day, he finally decided to step up to your table, interrupting your usual study schedule with a shy smile and your favorite drink in hand, as well as a chocolate chip cookie.

“I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, miss,” he said, feigning bashfulness, “but I’ve seen you around everyday for this past week and thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being friends? I’m new in town, actually…and- well, I don’t know a lot of people around here…” he added, watching your pretty eyes widen.

And, fuck, your lips were glossy again, and he stood there (like a complete idiot) wondering what flavor they could possibly taste like.

Cherries?

Strawberries? Blueberries?

Maybe mimosa or peppermint patties?

“Oh, well, of course! I don’t mind whatsoever,” you replied cheerfully, rousing butterflies in Aemond’s stomach. “I’d be happy to be your friend,” and you patted at the spot next to yours, slugging away your tote bag and books so that he could sit down, and you could introduce yourself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aemond became your friend, first. The easiest way to manipulate your unsuspecting victims? Through trust and friendships, per the teachings of his old childhood mentors back at the academy. Throughout the next month, he bought you hot chocolate and matcha tea lattes, joined you in quick lunch dates, insisted on driving you to your college classes, and went with you to the little bookstores scattered across the city. It was fun…and torturous- utter torment and near physical agony- because all he wanted to do was fuck your pretty pussy until you could no longer remember your name and your cunt was to the shape of his own cock.

He would sit beside you in the café booth, listening as you drone on and on about your favorite, most passionate subjects, all while trying to desperately hide the boner in his jeans and rid his mind of such dirty thoughts and fantasies. There was no use, though. Aemond was fucked, too addicted and obsessed.

He wanted you, now and forever.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that you had not the smallest clue of what you were doing to him. You were just his sweet companion, his dear friend, too innocent and naïve to both the world and the waking beast deep within him.

He often followed you back home, to that tiny apartment near the college. Aemond swore it was because he wanted to make sure you were safe and protected from any of his enemies, anyone daring to steal you away from him, but he knew it was more due to the chances of seeing you undress and shower and decide which nightie you would wear to bed. And, sometimes, he got treated to his sweet girl trying to touch herself. It was so cute, so endearing, to watch you slip a hand between your thighs only to pause because you had no idea of what to do, and how to fuck your own fingers inside your cunt until you came.

 Poor, sweet girl of mine, Aemond shook his head, tutting. Alone and in need.

How could someone so pretty, such a fucking cock-tease, be so innocent and untouched, so stupid and unknowing to everything sexual?

It did not make any sense to him.

Maybe you were made for him, and only him, and this was the gods’ gentle way of telling him to change his ways before it was too late. Leave behind this career of his, wash away all the red staining his ledger and hang up his callsign, all so he can start a family with you. The family he needs, the one he deserves.

Yes, he thought, that makes more sense. You need him the same way he needs you.

And, really, who was he to ignore the gods above? Aemond himself was no godly man, it was not in the nature of a spy like him- but for you, perhaps the fates might allow it.

Two months later, after a dinner date, Aemond has you pressed against your apartment’s door, his mouth frantically devouring yours in a fervent and wet kiss. It has been so long, so torturous, weeks after weeks of constant late-night jerking off to your pretty pictures and those blue-laced panties he managed to slip from your bedroom that one afternoon and pretending that all he wants to be is your friend.

You are so beautiful, so stunning, especially within this very moment, chest heaving out heavy breaths while you peer up at him as if he is a god.

He grabs at your face, a rough grip on your chin. “Tell me you want it tonight,” he demands, his lips near your ear. You shiver and clutch at his arms, so close to melting into nothing but putty in his hands. “Want what, Aemond?” you ask innocently, batting your dark eyelashes up at him. Fucking cock-tease. He chuckles while trailing light kisses along your jawline and down your neckline, mouthing at your nape and clavicle. You mewl at the feeling. “Please- please, don’t stop…”

“Do my kisses feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, tangling your fingers within his silver hair, “it feels amazing.”

He smirks. “It will feel a whole lot better in a little while, I promise you, sweet girl. But I need to ask…do you trust me?” You nod frantically, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Of course, Aemond. You are my dearest friend! I trust no one more than you.” Aemond just laughs at your words, yearning so badly to tell you that- by the end of the night- your cute ass will no longer be ‘just his friend’ but something much more, definitely.

But where is the fun in that?

“Good, good. Just relax and enjoy everything, okay?”

Aemond then pushes you back against the door, quickly slipping off the pretty floral top you wore and groaning at how your lacy bra cupped your breasts perfectly. Where have you been all my life? He thinks while snaking his hands around your back to unhook your brace and toss it somewhere over his shoulder, too busy salivating over your free and ample breasts and perky nipples.

“Fuck, look at you…so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles, kneading at your breasts. You stiffen, flushing under his heavy gaze before moving to cover yourself up, feeling a little self-conscious. Aemond shakes his head, gently tugging your hands back to your side. “No, don’t you dare cover yourself up, baby. Not in front of me.” His fingers pinch your nipple, cause your back to arch. “I’ll never understand why no one has ever devoured this pretty body. Gods, look at these tits. You’re so beautiful, baby, a fucking wet dream come true. Mmm, yeah, bet they’ll taste delicious,” and he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

You’re delicious here, and Aemond knows you will be even more down there. His poor cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it is weeping, too impatient and irritated and ready to ruin you. His hand slides down your belly to rest on your hipbones and thighs, fingers ghosting around your panties.

“Ohhh…” you gasp out, biting at your bottom lips when his hand slips in.

“Fuuckk,” he drawls out against your breast, thrusting a finger into your wet cunt. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet down here. Absolutely soaking, poor baby.” Aemond strokes your slit a few times before rubbing your clit with his thumb, hearing the way you whine and shake at his actions. “I can’t wait to be inside you, fucking you till all you can think about is me.” He continues his thrusting, watching how your pretty face scrunches in sheer pleasure.

“Are you enjoying this, baby?” he asks, humming. “Do you want me down there tongue-fucking you? Hmm? Oh, wait, my sincere apologies, pretty girl, you probably don’t even know what that means.”

You moan, loud and high-pitched, teeth still chewing on your bottom lip. At your silence, he spanks your ass, causing you to lurch up with a massive gasp. “Use your fucking words, sweetheart. I don’t care for silence, especially from you.”

The more you remain quiet, he thinks, the more spanks you’ll receive.

Eventually, you fling your head back, bumping it against the door. “Okay, yes! Please! Please, Aemond…!”

Grinning, Aemond stands up and draws his lips back to your ear, saying slowly, “Spread those legs then, baby girl, right now.” When you do so, he sinks down to his knees, both hands gently clutching your thighs, “Yeah, that is a good girl. My pretty, good girl of mine.” He moves his face to the front of your pussy, “Can you feel my breath against this pretty clit? Are you waiting for me to devour this pussy? Tongue-fuck you until you’re a stupid little mess? Tell me, baby.”

He then blows against your wetness, ignoring how you jolt hard at the feel. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” he adds before slinging a leg over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” you whine, jerking your hips up against his face. Aemond slaps your asscheeks hard- once, twice, three, four times. “Beg, my pretty baby. C’mon, I know you can do it. Beg for my tongue, beg like you mean it, you stupid and horny little slut.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you whimper. “Don’t be mean to me…” you whisper, trying to blink away tears.

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that, because this is your first time, I would be nice? My sweet summer girl, you teased me enough these past several months, and I’m done playing nice. Now, tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to claim this pussy as mine.”

Your wanton cries are everything he needs in this life, he soon realizes. If he can spend the rest of his days with his face buried deep between your thighs, he swears he’ll die a happy and satisfied man. The way his name glides off your tongue is incredibly, completely wonderful, and his mind fills with various fantasies and all the positions he will soon have you in, helpless and dripping like a whore in heat.

His pretty whore, forever and always.

“Fuck, baby, who am I to deny you such?” Aemond buries his face between your trembling thighs, inhaling your mouth-watering scent one final time before slipping his tongue inside your wet folds. “You taste so fucking good, baby- shit, you’re leaking all over my face,” he moans amid long licks, fucking you both with his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, gods! Oh- oh- oh…!” You shriek, both legs buckling as your hands clench into tight fists. All of your little moans and whimpers, those pathetic pleas and begs, they all send more blood rushing to his cock. You don’t recognize the early grave you’re digging at, too overtaken by the pleasure.

“So fucking tight against my fingers. How the hell will you take my cock, baby? Fuck, I’m going to destroy you.”

You moan again, in such a loud and lustful cry that causes his resolve to only weaken faster.

“Oh! Oh, Aemond, this feels so good! Please- please, don’t ever stop,” you wail, fat tears gushing down your cheeks. This pleasure, it is a feeling like nothing before, not even coming close to those few times you made some sad and futile attempt to touch yourself, too confused on how to deal with those strange tummy butterflies that seemingly hatched from their cocoons the day you meant Aemond.

How thankful you are that you met him.

Your body squirms every couple seconds, only to wince when he spanks your ass hard again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aemond hisses without venom. He is too much in love with you for poison. “Do you wish for your neighbors to know that I’m fucking you right now? What would they think? The pretty and sweet girl that lives here, too innocent and naïve for this damn world, letting a man eat her out like a whore.”

You shake your head again, eyes puffy and red from all the tears. “N-no, Aemond…” you stutter out.

Aemond pauses his fingers, now curious to see how far he could go with this new type of torture. But it is not long, though, before you buckle against his hand, your bruised and swollen chest pushing up with stiffened nipples. And your body, it soon tightens as your flustered face screws up in that telltale sign that you are only seconds away from cumming. The scene is beautiful, very much so, and he feels pride that it is all from his own doing.

Yet he drags himself back up on his feet, removing his fingers from your cunt before you could cum. Perhaps it is a bit too cruel on his part, but Aemond could care less; he wants you to cum on his cock for your first time.

There will be many more times of this, he wants to reassure you. He doesn’t, though.

You’ll find out on your own time.

You gaze at him through bleak and narrowed eyes as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his ankles. “You poor, poor little thing,” he tuts, running a gentle hand through your damp hair, “-are you tired? You look tired, but from what? You didn’t even cum once!” He pats your cheek, “Don’t worry, my sweet girl, you’re about to. Can’t tell you how many times, but it’ll be a lot.”

And Aemond does not wait for your response, instead snatching your hand and pressing it against his boxers. “Can you feel that, baby? That is my cock. Can you feel how hard it is? You did this, you made me so fucking hard that it hurts.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “Now, that is not very nice, is it? No, no, no it is not. I thought you were a sweetheart…” He shoves your hand back, ignoring the small tears that gather in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, wiping them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Aemond! Please don’t be mad at me…please, how can I help you? I’ll do anything,” you pout as you watch him slip down his boxers. Your teary eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and your breath hitches. It is so sexy to him, eating away at the little self-control he is trying to maintain.  

You’re a virgin, he reminds himself. Soft and easy, my baby deserves that.

“Shhh, baby,” Aemond rasps out, cupping your face within his hand. He kisses your nose, cheeks, and forehead before finding your lips. “I’m not mad, really, my sweet girl. I know you meant no harm, you’re too sweet and good for that,” and he holds your face against him while readying to fuck you with his cock. He can feel your short pants, the little breaths you take, and how you shudder whenever his clammy skin meets yours.

“Relax your body, baby girl, don’t tense up. It will hurt less…good girl, that’s my good girl.”

Nice and slow, he chants as he slowly sinks into your cunt, groaning at the tightness, slow and nice. You whimper, eyes rolling back as begins his thrusts, slow and easy. I’m a gentleman.

Mother made me promise to be a gentleman.

I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman.

But the look you are giving him, with your lips pink and puffy from the shit ton of kisses and bites, and the way your pussy clenches around his cock…it is causing him to forget all about how his mother indeed made him promise to be nothing short but a gentleman.

You’re too pretty for him not to devour, and…well, were you not made for him? The gods created you with the purpose of him eventually finding and caring for you, the way it should’ve always been- the way it will be for now on. His one good eye (the one those stupid bastards left alone back at the academy) watches as you shake and quiver and mewl out the sweetest and yummiest little moans.

The way you are right now, you’re just begging to be made into a new mother, and his mind goes insane at the sudden image of you heavy with his children, huffy and sore and always exhausted. It is delicious to think about. Aemond- truthfully- never really thought about kids, constantly busy with the espionage lifestyle and the back-to-back missions, but you…oh, he knows that, after tonight, you’ll have no choice but to remain by his side as the baby grows, needing him to protect and provide and shower you with love and affection.

He’ll be the best husband and father, and you his good girl- his precious slice of normality.

The way it should be, the way it will be.

It is half a year later that Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen finally connects back with his boss through a phone call.

Before that, he dropped off the grid, returning no calls and messages and signals, leaving everyone behind at the headquarters confused, concerned, and scratching their heads as to why their finest agent suddenly vanished without a trace.

He was not dead- they knew that. He was just…gone.

“What happened, agent?” The director asks, fiddling with his pen while another agent of his attempts to get some kind of reading on him. No luck; Aemond made himself untraceable. “Are you hurt, Aemond? Did someone threaten you? You left after I assigned you that mobster and- well, we assumed the worst, son.”  

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head. “No, boss, do not worry about me," he says, "I’m good. Very good, in fact, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, one might say.”

He leans against the doorway, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you flip through a baby store catalog and marvel at all the products they have for sale- the finest baby strollers, a variety of cribs, bassinets, and swing sets, and the cutest little animal plushies and clothing.

“Frankly, boss, I just grew tired of the spy life.”

“Is that so? And pray tell what you are now, Aemond One Eye.”

He smiles, eyeing your baby bump and how you are utterly glowing. “I’m a family man.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #request #vic writes 🧸

[fushipurro]

Merry Christmas

☆ Content: sfw (with some nsfw undertones), pet names, established relationship, domestic fluff

☆ Notes: the one who left it all behind and his overwhelming jolliness

"toji, can you hold this part for me, please?"

"do we really need all these lights and shit strung up everywhere?" he scoffed, doing as you asked nonetheless with one hand while the other hovered near your back.

something about you and ladders forms a bottomless pit in his stomach but he won't dare take the smile beaming from your face.

"uh, yeah we do? it's our first christmas together as a couple, i want to make it extra special!"

"it's already special with you here."

you leaned down and planted a kiss on the man's forehead, his ears dusting pink in surprise.

"i love you, toji, but you're going to get a full decked out holiday celebration."

"if it makes you happy, but can you at least let me do this?" he furrowed his eyebrows, watching you move the step stool everywhere there was a blank spot in need of holiday cheer.

"no can do, we'll decorate the tree together but i don't know about your eye for decorating." you teased, looking at the man with a smug expression.

he scowled, but softened when you went back to focusing on what you were doing. toji loved watching you so intently focused, the slight pinching of your brows or the twiddling of your fingers while you were debating options, the smile you made when it worked out.

all of this was a first for him, his own family had no need to celebrate just another day that served no use to them. you were shocked but expected as much when it came to the zenins, but resolved yourself to make the season special for toji.

when it came time for the tree, you had to do everything in your power to not be a bridezilla about it. toji was willing to decorate it with you, sure, but the idea that putting four of the exact same ornaments so closely together was so painful.

you snuck a few around from time to time when he wasn't watching, but still let him be creative in his own way since in the end it doesn't really matter so long as the two of you are happy.

"anything else?" he asked, looking at the nearly empty bin. his eyes led him to a small wrapping that he took into his hands.

"oh perfect, you're holding the last thing we need!"

he unwrapped it to reveal a beautiful stained glass star full of colors. "where does this go?"

"at the very top of the tree, i'll go grab the ladde─" toji's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his body.

"i have a better idea." he smirked, handing you the star while lifting you up from your hips, allowing your legs to wrap around his own. he moved closer to the tree, giving you the extra height you needed to reach the top, placing the final cherry on top.

"okay, now to just plug this here and... voila!" the tree came alive with lights and colors, brightening up the evening room in a beautiful display. "well? what do you think?"

toji took a few moments to take in the sight, leaning down to your lips to kiss you passionately. "pretty, but still doesn't come close to you, sweetheart."

"toojjjiii, you're so sweet." heat rushed to your face as you hugged the man, admiring the tree together. his hands rubbed your back up and down while he held you, looking down at your eyes that reflected the twinkling lights.

you walked over to the couch, taking the remote in hand, "now we have to watch the best christmas movie ever."

"this isn't going to be some sappy chick flick, is it?" he scowled.

"even better, and i know you'll love it."

toji plopped down on the couch next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, "yeah?"

"get ready for some die hard, baby. a christmas classic!"

"who are all these cookies for?"

of course he had to ask, the kitchen counters were consumed with several different doughs, pans and cooling racks covering every free inch.

"for us, but there will be plenty to share with others too. we've got gingerbread, chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and my family's sugar cookie recipe."

"is that what you're working on so intently?" he asked, looking at the rolled out dough and cutouts in front of you. an array of different colors were displayed in small bowls in front of you.

toji moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on the crown of yours. you could feel the warmth coming off of him, like you were enveloped in a heating blanket that was your lover.

"it is! the icing is my favorite part, i've always loved to decorate them."

he looked down at the snowflake shape you were beginning to drizzle white icing on, "is it supposed to look like... that?"

"like what?" you questioned before quicking realizing, lightly smacking his thigh making him chuckle, "toji! don't be a perv... it'll turn more opaque when it dries."

toji began to adorn your neck with kisses, tickling you and causing the icing to splatter around your work. his fingers easing their way under the hem of your clothes.

you took the snowflake cookie and shoved it up into his mouth, "you can wait for your present, mister, i've still got plenty of baking to do."

he groaned in disapproval, but took the cookie willingly as he snagged a few more from under you. "save some of that icing for later." he winked, pressing his lips to yours before you could respond.

you laughed, "glad to see you coming around to being jolly."

"if it makes you happy, then i'm happy."

you put the bag of icing down and trotted up behind him, grabbing his wrist and turning him to face you.

"merry christmas, toji." you smiled, pointing your finger upwards. he followed your finger to see a mistletoe hanging above the two of you.

toji leaned down to meet your lips once more, pulling you into his body, "merry christmas, y/n."

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji zenin #toji x you #toji fluff #toji drabble

[foodshowxyz]

Decadent Biscuit Crumb Kadayıf Parfait with Coffee Cream and Cherry Sauce

Yields: 4-6 parfaits Prep Time: 30 minutes (plus chilling time) Cook Time: 20-25 minutes

Ingredients

Biscuit Crumb Layer

1 cup biscuit crumbs (digestives, graham crackers, or your favorite kind)

3 tablespoons melted butter

Coffee Pastry Cream

2 cups milk (whole or 2% for richness)

1/2 cup granulated sugar

4 large egg yolks

1/4 cup cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons strong brewed coffee (or 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder)

Kadayıf

4 oz package kadayıf (shredded phyllo)

1/4 cup melted butter

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

Cherry Sauce

1 cup pitted cherries (fresh or frozen)

1/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Assembly

Vanilla Ice Cream

Instructions

1. Biscuit Crumbs

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).

Combine biscuit crumbs and melted butter. Press into the bottom of your parfait glasses or serving dishes.

2. Coffee Pastry Cream

In a saucepan, whisk together milk, sugar, egg yolks, cornstarch, and salt.

Heat over medium, whisking constantly, until thickened and bubbly (about 5-8 minutes).

Remove from heat, stir in butter, vanilla, and brewed coffee/espresso powder.

Pour over biscuit crumb layer in glasses. Chill until set (at least 2 hours).

3. Kadayıf

While pastry cream chills, toss kadayıf with melted butter and sugar.

Spread in a single layer on a baking sheet.

Bake until golden brown and crispy (15-20 minutes). Cool completely.

4. Cherry Sauce

Combine cherries, sugar, and water in a saucepan.

Bring to a simmer, mashing cherries slightly. Cook for 5 minutes, or until sauce thickens.

Stir in lemon juice. Let cool.

5. Assembly

Top chilled coffee pastry cream with crumbled kadayıf.

Add a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Drizzle with the cherry sauce. Enjoy immediately!

Tips

Make it ahead: Prepare the components up to a day in advance. Assemble just before serving.

Substitutions: Swap biscuits for shortbread or other cookies. Use your favorite ice cream flavor.

Garnish: Add fresh cherries, a sprinkle of cocoa, or a mint sprig!

#food #food blogs #delicious #recipe #food pics #homemade #foodshow #dessert #cake #breakfast

[chrisbitchtree]

Billy’s hungry. His body is an empty pit that can’t be filled, no matter how hard he tries. It keeps him up at night, his heart beating fast, his mind racing with wants and needs, dreams and desires. It would be easy enough if all he needed were some burgers and shakes, a piece of cherry pie, or his favourite meal, spaghetti with tuna and peas.

It’s never been that easy though, because Billy’s hunger isn’t one that can be so easily satiated. A soft kiss placed on the top of his head as his mother tucked him in at night, the California sun on his shoulders and warm sand between his toes, his grandmother’s warm chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven, the ones that never tasted the same when he tried to make them, rushing to get them out of the oven before Neil came home and found him wrapped in the frilly pink apron he rescued from the trash when his mom left, the solid feeling of a boy’s arms wrapped around him holding him close. These were the things Billy hungered for, even fully aware that all of these things were solidly out of his reach, either forever or for now.

The longer Billy spends in the desolate wasteland that is Indiana, the more he’s convinced that the hunger is going to consume him whole, tear him apart from the inside out, leaving a hallow shell where a happy, fun loving boy used to be, but he has no way to feed it.

That is until Steve Harrington appears one night at the quarry, holding up beers like a beacon in the darkness, and the hunger starts to ebb. Billy can feel it, that night, and all the nights that follow, hunger satiated by finger tip touches during the passing of shared cigarettes, legs pressing closer as nights progress, hands growing bold under the inky black sky, wandering first over denim, then under it, feeling safe under a blanket of stars, lips pressing and lingering; teeth nipping, marking their place for the next time they meet.

Steve can’t bring back Billy’s mom, and he can’t recreate those delicious chocolate chip cookies, try as he might, hair hanging in his eyes as he carefully reads the recipe card faded with time. He can’t give Billy everything he wants in the world, no one can, Billy knows he has to accept that. But Steve can give him a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold as Billy whispers his deepest desires to the moon, a driving companion as he makes the long journey home, to the sand, the sun, the surf, the life he unwillingly put on hold so long ago.

No longer are the nights filled with ravenous hunger when he has someone right there in the bed next to him, someone make him laugh and smile, someone to make him feel safe and secure, someone to love, someone to take on life with.

In Billy’s experience, good things don’t last, but maybe this time things will be different. He sure as hell hopes so.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove fic #can anyone spot the reference to Witchsickness’s the one you come home to? #chrisbitchtree writes

[k-marzolf]

Kindred Spirits

(Strangers to lovers, coffee shop au?, mentions of sexual abuse (both Billy and Reader), mentions of physical abuse, themes of obsession, Reader has asthma, fluff/angst, fem!reader)

1.84k words.

A one shot I’ve been working on off and on. I like how it turned out.

You’d dropped out of high school on a cold day in winter, running away until the cold air burned your lungs, making your asthma flare up, and as you looked for a bus, dragging what little belongings you had behind you, you wheezed. You were sixteen, a couple years away from adulthood. You just had to evade social services in that amount of time.

You ended up coughing and hacking in your seat, lungs protesting, but making eye contact with no one. The heat on the bus settled your lungs, and when you arrived in New York after many days' travel, you found a job willing to pay you under the table as a minor.

You never looked back, working at a bakery now in New York City, getting by just barely, and no medical insurance. But you didn’t complain. It was better than the beatings, you thought looking at your scarred hands. “Please, grandad. I’ll behave.” You remembered begging after he’d tried to touch you.

You were twenty six, and with nothing to say for your life. You’d never been to college, and had no great achievements. But you were happy, and that was what mattered.

A man at least several years older than you, liked to come in and order a danish, and a coffee, straight black. He wore tailored suits, and had slicked back dark hair, shaved on the sides. He had a beard, and you itched to touch it, to feel it between your thighs. “You look like you’ve got the wiles of the Devil.” You’d blurted after staring at him a few seconds, struck by his handsomeness, before apologizing profusely.

He’d chuckled, and it went down your spine like velvet sliding over a dagger. His voice was deep, but soft. “If only you knew, bunny.”

“Bunny?” You asked, tilting your head.

He pointed to the bunny pin on your shirt, and you laughed quietly. You’d bought the pin as a splurge. It had been a few dollars.

“You’re not from New York.” He said, and you wondered how he knew. “Your accent.” He clarified.

“I’m just a farm girl from the Midwest. Nothin’ interesting.” You said dully.

He looked at your hands, before taking a sip of his coffee. “I doubt that, bunny.”

You’d found yourself daydreaming about the man in the tailored suit after his words. As though you were interesting to him, a dull girl who spent her life milking cows and chasing chickens. You wondered what his kiss would taste like. Probably bitter like the coffee he drank. What his touch would feel like. It was those moments you realized just how lonely you were, desperate for attention and companionship.

“Hi, Billy.” You said cheerfully as he came in one day.

“Hi, bunny.” He said, amused by your eagerness.

“Coffee, black, right. And a cherry danish?” You asked.

“Mhm.” He hummed, hand in his pocket.

You got his coffee ready, and slipped a cookie in his bag with his danish. You didn’t want anything in return, only his attention.

Your heart raced as you gave it to him. He smiled as though he knew. “Have a good day, bunny.” He thought you were sweet, gentle, tender. All the things he craved.

Your cheeks burned.

“You’re my favorite patron.” You confessed one day, handing him his coffee, admiring his pink cheeks from the cold.

His lips had turned up, as he silently took his coffee, dark eyes almost black, sparkling.

He pulled something out of his pocket, pushing it towards you. It was a little toy bunny, and your heart stuttered. It was white, with pink feet, and a pink nose. “You’re my favorite baker, bunny.” He teased you, before taking his coffee and walking away.

He had that thick New York accent which drew you in, being from the Midwest yourself. He had a darkness in his eyes that made you shiver with a thrill at catching his attention, his dark pits turning to you. Choosing you.

He noticed your scarred hands, looking like he wanted to comment. Unbeknownst to you, he admired them knowing most scars were a sign you’d survived, you’d fought. He’d been angry when he read the police report on you when he looked into you. Your hands cut up with a broken vodka bottle. All because you didn’t want grandfather's advances.

Like Billy had fought advances at eleven years old. He could still remember the pain exploding in his shoulder. The helplessness. The rage.

But you were just a poor farm girl from the Midwest, on the run from an abusive grandfather, you thought. And Billy was a status above you. What would you have in common, you thought dully. Your heart squeezed, you’d never wanted something more than you wanted him, you thought playing with the bunny he’d given you in your pocket. All because he’d given you his attention.

You continued giving him an oatmeal raisin cookie on the house, discreetly. Your way of showing affection. But not so discreet, you soon realized.

After a few weeks of this, he hummed, taking the cookie and pocketing it, “You always give free cookies out to patrons, bunny?” He asked, lips forming a wry grin.

You felt your cheeks heat up, “I’m sorry, sir.”

He smiled, “For your favorite patron, huh?” He kept every cookie. No one had ever given him something so freely. Even as a boy, adults scorned him. He’d been a nuisance to them. He’d been invisible.

And even now, women only loved him for his beauty and wealth, you were just kind, expecting nothing in return.

It was a cold day in winter, and instead of running from something, you were running headlong into something. Only you didn’t know exactly how much he’d watched you. Fantasized about coming home to you, kissing you. How pretty you’d look in the morning waking up next to him.

He’d have someone to come home to. Proof he wasn’t just some asshole who thought he could have the good things in life.

He could have something good, like Frank had Maria and the kids.

He’d never had such domestic thoughts before, but goddamn he liked you, wanted to make you his.

And that he always intended to make you his all along. His sweet little rabbit. And he would understand poverty and being unwanted better than anyone else. Understand being touched without consent, and fighting for autonomy, with the scars as proof.

You were kindred spirits, of that he was certain.

Tags: @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

[urfavnegronerd]

a cute lil poem i wrote cus a bitch is lowkey struggling

nothing tastes as good as skinny feels 

except for the pegao at the bottom of the pot, a mixture of char, chicken stock, salt and bay leaf 

nothing tastes as good as skinny feels 

except for lukewarm soda on the beach, syrup dribbling down my chin and sticking my chain to my chest 

and the pineapple upside down cake my grandmother used to make, the kind with canned pineapple circles and syrupy cherries in the center of each pineapple slice 

and coming back from the beach, sun soaked and tired, passing a mango in between lips as we laugh about the juice that drags from our lips 

the last drop of caribbean beer —red stripe— in a can a quick sting, a drop of the islands somewhere we can never return 

nothing tastes as good as skinny feels 

except strawberries late at night, fresh from the carton and sweeter than life itself 

and the mints from the bottom of your grandmothers purse 

and chicken pad thai with extra peanuts 

and laughing over sushi 

and mangonada with a little extra chamoy and guava nectar

and sprite mixed with passionfruit juice on christmas eve in between stolen sips of crémas 

the bites of fried food the salon ladies give you during the five hours in the chair getting your hair braided 

the secret bits of marinade doused in pikliz the aunties slip you before anyone else, their finger pressed against their lips, smiling 

the cookies that come in the circular tin, the same tin that will later be filled with buttons or napkins 

coffee after a sleepless night, eyes hazy with sleep 

the extra diri tante slips you after a poor attempt at speaking kréyol back to her, sealed with a smile and discreet nod that says 'keep practicing and you'll remind me of your cousin'

the bundt cake my aunt makes that i’m positive is laced with something, because when was bundt cake ever this good 

the lemonade the same auntie makes, out of country crock powder and probably too much domino sugar  

sucking the meat off the pit of a mango, gently nibbling, trying to get the last dregs of juice before throwing it away 

welches passionfruit juice paired with stories of a home in the mountains in haiti, the home my father was born into, the home they left behind 

cold cola lacaye and stories about my late grandfather, while my uncles slam dominoes at the table, bald heads bobbing and yelling 

fresh wings off the grill, that my uncles swear arent burned just charred

they taste good anyway, sweet spicy and tangy all at once

the only thing that tastes as good as skinny feels 

is not wasting away in a shell of a body

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

#urfavnegronerd #poems #black people #taino #haiti #haitian #multilingualism #language #linguistics

[animalcrossingshowdown]

WE HAVE THE WINNERS (LOSERS?) OF THE LEAST POPULAR COMEBACK ROUND!

Welcome to the pit Pietro (24 votes), Beardo (22 votes) and Raymond (9 votes). Beardo was eliminated from least popular in round 2, Raymond was eliminated from most popular in round 2, and Pietro is still in the running for most popular, meaning he's the only villager who can potentially win both.

For Sue E's almost tie, only 22.6% of you voted to bring her back, so now she has officially escaped least popular for good.

We're now down to a small enough number of villagers that we can get the graphic going. Pietro, Beardo and Raymond are marked with a star to indicate that they were brought back in the comeback round. Round 4 most popular starts tomorrow, and round 4 least popular starts April 22nd.

It seems you guys have a lot more love in your hearts than hate, since this only got about half as many submissions as most popular, and way more people left options blank rather than put more votes into someone they hated

Runners up:

Klaus 8

Nate 8

Bangle 7

Sylvia 7

Chadder 6

Lionel 6

Marshal 6

The rest of the pack:

5 votes:

Cobb

Naomi

Ricky

Rocket

Sue E

4 votes:

Agent S

Alice

Gayle

O'Hare

Queenie

Raddle

Rasher

Tiansheng

Twiggy

3 votes:

Bob

Camofrog

Cherry

Clay

Colton

Curlos

Diva

Flurry

Friga

Frobert

Hopkins

Kody

Mallary

Nana

Olaf

Ozzie

Purrl

Roald

Rolf

Scoot

Shari

Sly

Tucker

2 votes:

Agnes

Apple

Bam

Becky

Benedict

Cephalobot

Gonzo

Huck

Jacques

Mathilda

Mira

Rilla

T-Bone

Tutu

Vic

Viché

Violet

Zucker

1 votes:

Admiral

Angus

Apollo

Astrid

Ava

Bonbon

Bud

Chai

Chelsea

Chester

Chico

Chow

Chrissy

Claudia

Cookie

Cranston

Diana

Doc

Dom

Dotty

Drago

Eugene

Francine

Freckles

Frita

Gabi

Hamlet

Hans

Iggly

Jitters

Joey

Judy

Ketchup

Kyle

Lolly

Maelle

Maggue

Melba

Monique

Octavian

Pancetti

Pashmina

Peaches

Pecan

Penny

Plucky

Poncho

Ribbot

Rodeo

Roscoe

Sandy

Sasha

Sherb

Skye

Soleil

Sterling

Stitches

Stu

Tabby

Tammy

Tangy

Tiara

Tybalt

Wolfgang

Zell

[lady-of-imladris]

Heyyy pls could u tell us more about the baking season? What do h guys bake?

hi babe! SO. Baking. In Austria. During December. A HUGE THING!!!

The gist of it: Get your grandma and be prepared to labour in the kitchen for DAYS. Always have softened butter on hand, and more nuts and chocolate than you think you'll ever need!

So basically the goal is to bake a TON of different tiny little treats, throw them all together into a box and it's called "Krapferl" or "Weihnachtskrapferl" (Weihnachten is Christmas in German). Krapferl are apparently also a wedding tradition? I did not know that!

(additional info: The Germans call it "Weihnachtsbäckerei". They. Are. Wrong)

Also the thing with Krapferl is they. Dont. Go. Bad. You have that stuff the WHOLE month as a little afternoon treat!

Lots of pics and descriptions under the cut!

So this is a generic picture of Krapferl, as you can see there is a lot of chocolate involved! Some classic ingredients are: chocolate, jam (usually apricot), coconut?, and NUTS. A LOT. of nuts. You might be wondering about the pink stuff. PUNSCHKRAPFERL!!

Let's get into some classics.

The first thing one usually thinks of when it comes to Krapferl is Vanillekipferl (Vanilla Crescents??)

They contain almonds and ...vanilla!! The trick with these is to make them in advance because they are crumbly as fuck when fresh!

Another classic: Linzeraugen (Auge is Eye and Linz is a city in Austria. Weird name)

The dough is basic and then you just put a cookie, top it with apricot jam and then for the "lid" you have another cookie except you have some holes (or only one hole, or a star or heart...) in the top.

Now the DOUGH. You can make a lot of different Krapferln with this dough by simply adding chocolate or nuts or something, but you might get called lazy by my grandmother because if you only have to make one dough IT DOESNT COUNT!!!

My personal favourite (and also what I made this week): Honigschnitten (Honig is honey and Schnitten is just the shape)

THESE are SO GOOD!!!!

It's layers of a dough that contains honey and layers of vanilla buttercream topped with chocolate and they are THE TASTIEST LITTLE FUCKERS!!!!! But really hard to make (I have blisters from rolling out the dough!!). Depending on what recipe has been passed down from GENERATIONS in your family, the dough might contain chocolate, the buttercream may contain chocolate. IDK but whatever old lady you ask, if you didn't use HER recipe, you did it wrong.

Punschkrapferl (Punsch is a type of alcohol?)

MUST be pink!! I think it's sponge cake?? filled with chocolate, jam and rum

While we're at the topic of rum... RUMKUGELN (Rum balls)

These are basically chocolate and rum, rolled in either coconut or chocolate sprinkles. They are a TRAP for children!! Because you see the chocolatey goodness and think it will taste good but theres SO MUCH ALCOHOL IN THEM!!! They may also contain a cherry (or a sour cherry?), be careful not to bite down on the pit!

I THINK those are the most basic ones? Pretty sure I could go on for another hour or so (I'm procrastinating on an assignment anyway)

#star <3

[emmys-baking-adventures]

Today I made some cherry cheesecake cookies. The cookie is soft and chewy, the tartness of the cherry topping perfectly balances the sweetness, and the graham cracker coating adds just a bit of crunch. Recipe below!

• 3 ½ cups all-purpose flour

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• 1 ¼ teaspoons salt

• 2 8oz packages of cream cheese, softened

• 2 ½ sticks of unsalted butter, softened

• 1 ½ cups sugar

• 2 eggs

• 1 tablespoon vanilla

• 1 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs

• 1 24oz can of cherry pie filling, OR follow my second recipe below to make your own

1. Beat the cream cheese, butter, and sugar until smooth and creamy, about 5 minutes. In another bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt.

2. Add the eggs and vanilla to the cream cheese mixture and mix until incorporated. Gradually add the flour mixture until just combined. Refrigerate the dough for at least 45 minutes to prevent spreading.

3. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

4. Roll your dough into 24 1.5-inch balls, then coat them with graham cracker crumbs. Place them about 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Make an indentation in the center of each ball with a spoon or your thumb.

- Make your pie filling [recipe below] or use a can of premade filling. Place 2-3 cherries in each indentation. Bake until golden brown around the edges, 12-15 minutes. Cool for 5 minutes on the sheet and then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

To make your own pie filling:

• 6 cups pitted cherries (frozen or fresh)

• ½-¾ cup sugar (start with less and adjust)

• ¼ cup water (double if using fresh cherries)

• ¼ cup cornstarch

• 2 tablespoons lemon juice

• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Make a slurry by mixing together your cornstarch and water in a small bowl.

2. In a large pot, combine pitted cherries, sugar, lemon juice, and the slurry. Bring to a boil, stirring often to avoid burning.

3. When it begins to reduce and thicken, lower the temperature and taste. Add more sugar or lemon juice as desired. Also add the vanilla at this point.

4. Cool completely and then use as recipe directs. Leftover filling can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days.

#baking #cookies #cherries #pie filling #baking tips #recipes #cherry pie #emmysbakingadventures #food #food photography #food porn #food pics #dessert #sweets

[coentinim]

Cuisine for my portfolio project fantasy world...

Penbre has a bit of a unique cuisine:

So, a delicacy for the rich of these region are bird cherry almonds (it can also refer to a center of a nut pit, not just the fruit of the almond tree) is to toast and grind them, and them boil them in honey until a rough, rudimentary mazipan is created.

A common dish is rutapaga stew served with some oat bread (oat bread is delicious).

A late spring favorite are thinly sliced radishes served with melted butter, and are eaten on seasonal occasions by all social classes.

On summer, some rutapaga breads are served, nice and soft with simply a little bit of butter.

A common winter dish is rowan confied in salted lard (just the fat). Is typically spread on bread.

A special occasion's dish is duck stuffed with cattails in more swampy villages.

In the city, chocolate is a popular treat for those who can afford it. It's typically drank as hot chocolate based in water, aromatized with cream and berries.

The monastary produces cheeses that are covered with some lie de vin, but instead of raisins it's stuff like cranberries. It gives a winy, cranberry flavor to them. Some are wrapped in nettle, giving it a greener taste.

As for HP...

Peony Lestrange being cute...Can I please have headcanons ?

I'm not sure what some of this foods are or what they mean but I appreciate your attention to detail.

Peony would be cute when embarassed. Because she's like those heroes in period dramas who like, face a public whipping barely flinching or smile with pride and resistance when tortured and humiliated, showing how tough they are. But she blushes and looks away when Neville holds her hands in a comforting way. That's very cute imo but also sad. Like, I think she barely cries, but would cry in the arms of someone she knows will love and accept her as she is. She's also cute when she has a sweet craving and eats a lot of cookies. She rarely eats sweets, but when she does, she eats so much it puts Ron to shame. She used to be ashamed of this (unladylike savage behavior!@*@&!*), but then she stopped caring.

#peony oc tag

[destinylightsup-2006]

My Nice List for Christmas (2023)

Here are the characters I think they're nice. (As I believe they all are)

Pure Vanilla Cookie (Cookie Run)

Hollyberry Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie, Golden Cheese Cookie and White Lily Cookie (Cookie Run)

Gingerbrave (Cookie Run)

Cherry Cookie and Cherry Blossom Cookie (Cookie Run)

Cream Puff Cookie (Cookie Run)

Cotton Cookie (Cookie Run)

Pumpkin Pie Cookie (Cookie Run)

Milky Way Cookie (Cookie Run)

Sea Fairy Cookie and Moonlight Cookie (Cookie Run)

Cream Unicorn Cookie (Cookie Run)

Clotted Cream Cookie (Cookie Run)

Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna and Yang Xiao Long (RWBY)

Jaune Arc, Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha Nikos and Lie Ren (RWBY)

Qrow Branwen (RWBY)

Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Oscar Pine (RWBY)

Sailor Moon, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter and Venus (Sailor Moon)

Chibiusa (Sailor Moon)

Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie Simpson (The Simpsons)

Ned Flanders (The Simpsons)

Mario and Luigi (Super Mario)

Peach and Daisy (Super Mario)

Yoshi (Super Mario)

Geno and Mallow (Super Mario)

Rosalina (Super Mario)

Kirby

Adeleine and Ribbon (Kirby)

Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy and Starlight Glimmer (My Little Pony)

Spike (My Little Pony)

Sunset Shimmer (My Little Pony)

Princess Celestia (My Little Pony)

Princess Luna (My Little Pony)

Steven Universe

Sonic the Hedgehog

Tails the Fox (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Sora (Kingdom Hearts)

Alice (Alice in Wonderland)

Hercules (Disney)

Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Zelda (The Legend of Zelda)

Invincible

Sulley and Mike (Monsters, Inc.)

WALL.E

Po (Kung Fu Panda)

Superman

Batman

Charlie Morningstar (Hazbin Hotel)

Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer)

Ryuko Matoi and Mako Mankanshoku (Kill la Kill)

Elsa and Anna (Frozen)

Pit (Kid Icarus)

Palutena (Kid Icarus)

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (How to Train Your Dragon)

Woody and Buzz Lightyear (Toy Story)

Leo, Raph, Don and Mikey (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

Spider-Man

Gwen Stacy (Spider-Man)

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup (Powerpuff Girls)

Isabelle (Animal Crossing)

Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy)

Aerith Gainsborough (Final Fantasy)

Puss in Boots

Raya (Raya and the Last Dragon)

Sisu (Raya and the Last Dragon)

Fa Mulan (Mulan)

Tari (Meta Runner)

Meggy Spletzer and Melony (SMG4)

SMG0 (SMG4)

Ryu (Street Fighter)

Chun Li (Street Fighter)

Poppy (Trolls)

Emmet Brickowski (The LEGO Movie)

Stan, Kyle and Kenny (South Park)

Butters Stotch (South Park)

Courage the Cowardly Dog

Muriel Bagge (Courage the Cowardly Dog)

Yoda (Star Wars)

Judy Hopps (Zootopia)

Jenny Wakeman (My Life as a Teenage Robot)

Belle (Beauty and the Beast)

Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack Parr (The Incredibles)

Frozone (The Incredibles)

SpongeBob SquarePants

Thomas the Tank Engine (Thomas & Friends)

Jack Frost (Rise of the Guardians)

Felonius Gru (Despicable Me)

Lucy Wilde (Despicable Me)

Margo, Edith and Agnes Gru (Despicable Me)

Optimus Prime (Transformers)

Bumblebee (Transformers)

Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Fear and Anger (Inside Out)

Dipper and Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls)

Sportacus (LazyTown)

Captain America (Marvel)

Robin, Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy and Cyborg (Teen Titans)

Aang (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Samurai Jack

Frodo Baggins (Middle-earth)

Gandalf (Middle-earth)

NOTE: I do not own everything

[itsoneofthemuses]

title: we drank a toast to innocence, on AO3 here

rating: gen, hard hard gen

warnings: none, a brief mention of Isabel using but it’s not even specific.

a/n: title and inspiration is from Dan Fogelberg’s Same Auld Lang Syne (and if you listen to it/read the lyrics, you will understand what I mean).  A big thank you to @onlyforchenford who is a hype woman extraordinaire and is overall lovely.

He sees her in the frozen food aisle. It's Christmas Eve, he’s just finished a shift and this is supposed to be a pit stop before he finally goes home and collapses into bed. Despite the years, he thinks he'd recognize the curve of her jaw, the slope of her shoulders, anywhere and he knows that this won't be anything quick and neat, not for him anyway.

Even though he knows there's a warm bed and sleep-soaked kisses waiting for him, he can't stop himself from calling out.  Maybe that’s the pattern he’s destined to repeat with her; reaching out and, no matter her initial response, watching her walk away  

"Isabel?" She jerks, wide startled eyes meeting his as she whirls to face him.  It's nearing 9pm on Christmas Eve, he reminds himself, he certainly didn't expect to run into his ex and she probably didn't either.  He keeps his voice tentative, unsure he could do anything else even if he wanted to. "How are you?"

"Tim?" He knows it's not really a question, he looks a little older, but not particularly different, not really.  Some grey threaded into his stubble, a few more careworn lines, crow’s feet carved a little deeper.  "I-what are you doing here?" She starts out a little incredulous but she's smiling by the end and she leans forward to hug him.  Her purse left hanging off her forearm spills as she moves and then they're both chuckling as they bend to pick up all the little items and papers that are strewn across the floor between them.

He pretends not to notice as she swipes a Kleenex that was caught on the end of her purse strap and dabs at her eyes. He answers her question instead.

"I just got off shift, had to grab one or two things before I headed home." He looks around, a little awkward now that the surprise is wearing off. "What's got you out so late on Christmas Eve?" She doesn't look like she's using. Her hair is shiny, her eyes are clear, and her face is full with the smooth patina of makeup enhancing her pretty features.

"Same." She holds up a container, some kind of frozen dessert, and he nods before he reaches inside the freezer, hand hovering over a tub of Cherry Garcia before he decides he’ll do without it and just grabs a box of frozen Belgian waffles sitting just to the right, adding it to the Arrowroot cookies and turkey bacon already clutched in his hands. She eyes him without judgement but he knows she knows none of this is for him. It's a silent agreement that they'll head to the checkout and then... And then.

Read the rest on AO3

#chenford #tim bradford #isabel bradford #lucy chen #chenford fic #otp: for what? doing my job? #this is what happens when you listen to holiday music in early november

[angelkarafilli]

A vintage article (published in 1963) about vintage cookie recipes!

ROCHESTER DEMOCRAT AND CHRONICLE Sunday, Nov. 17, 1963

COOKIES…The Vintage Years By Elizabeth de Sylva Democrat and Chronicle Food Editor

Fashions come and go. Styles of furniture change with the years. But when a cookie that becomes a sensation in any one year is sure to find itself as popular a decade later. Here are some of the best-liked cookies of past and present and the dates when they made their debuts.

Bonbon Cookies Best cookie 1955-1960

1/2 cup butter or margarine 3/4 cup sifted confectioners’ sugar 1 tbsp. vanilla food coloring if desired 1 1/2 cups flour 1/8 tsp. salt Fillings: candied or maraschino cherries, pitted dates, nuts or chocolate pieces bonbon icing Toppings: chopped nuts, coconut, colored sugar

Mix butter, sugar, vanilla and food coloring. Blend flour and salt in thoroughly by hand. If dough is dry add 1 to 2 tbsp. cream.

Heat oven to 350F (180 celcius)degrees. For each cookie, wrap one level tablespoon of dough around a filling suggested above. Bake one inch apart on ungreased baking sheet 12 to 15 minutes or until set but not brown. Cool; dip tops of cookies in white or colored icings and decorate with toppings suggested. Makes 20 to 25 cookies.

(Note: Do not use self-rising flour in this recipe.)

Continues with more cookie recipes

Article and recipes on:https://recipecurio.com/cookies-vintage-years/

#recipes #cookies #vintage #vintage cookies #1963 #60s #vintage world #Bonbon Cookies #old

[neopronouns]

colorgenders inspired by the results of a “What is your Aura” quiz ((https://)uquiz(.)com/quiz/pxTx2D/what-color-is-your-aura):

Sky: short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes.

Honeysuckle: succulents, key lime, glow-in-the-dark stars, blown glass, honeydew, garter snakes, notes in bottles.

Seafoam: clear water, milkshakes, crystals, agave, candy dishes, converse, seashells.

Yellow: daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon meringue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings.

Hickory: felled oak, brass, sunken ships, olive pits, graphic shirts, splinters, dark room.

Orange: guitars, fanta bottles, sunglasses, orange peels, butterflies, popsicles, paper lanterns.

Sage: herb clippings, matcha, bullet journals, mini backpacks, needle felts, pistachio, laptop stickers.

Teal: dyed hair, scales, doc martens, aurora borealis, stormy seas, kingfishers, agate. 

Royal (blue): crown jewels, portraits, satin chairs, masquerades, nebulas, betta fish, secrets.

Gold: lion statues, coins, gold leafing, bound books, goldfinches, crowns, heart lockets. 

Crimson: rose vines, blood, apples, velvet, sharp nails, galaxies, dripping jewellery.

Navy: brush strokes, suit jackets, midnight, comforters, star gazing, arctic waters, starlings.

Forest: fern leaves, greenhouses, cloaks, bookstores, pine trees, chokers, snake scales. 

honey: friendship bracelets, beehives, school buses, children's books, flower petals, honeyed toast, polaroids. 

Ashen: old newspapers, smoke, quiet cities, pale cheeks, pebbles, chalk, the clouded moon.

Garnet: Brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains.

Chiffon: stone walls, sweaters, moths, dusty lace, animal tracks, incense, throw pillows.

Red: leather jackets, cherries, bruised knuckles, roses, lipstick, fast cars, rose petals.

Magenta: splattered paint, glitter, childhood friends, neon, pleather, dance floors, crystals.

Amaranth: bundled flowers, ribbon, merlot, overcoats, gemstones, lipstick prints, red velvet.

Periwinkle: knit hats, candies, tiny flowers, beads, teacups, washi tape, clouds.

Jade: islands, sketchbooks, rainy windows, pendants, puzzle pieces, tree frogs, sea glass.

Pink: cupcakes, sunglasses, pink sands, starbursts, pinky promises, flower crowns, ice cream.

Rose: lace, blown kisses, milk tea, paper fans, pillows, ballet slippers, fairy wings.

Amethyst: earrings, violet corts, parades, gemstones, insect wings, grape bushels, outer space.

Noir: drops of ink, eyeliner, crows, spiders, charcoal, painted nails, the night.

Cream: dandelions, marble, bottled coffee, hair ties, banana cream, bedsheets, sketches. 

Beige: lattes, dry fields, footprints, easels, cat fur, pottery, fresh-baked cookies.

Pearl: abalone, perfume bottles, chandeliers, tulle, ball jointed dolls, satin, paint palettes. 

Bronze: leather books, cowboy hats, foxes, candle jars, sword hilts, cobblestone streets, hourglasses

Amber: autumn days, freckles, torches, cabins, fossils, unbrushed hair, enamel pins.

Fire: sunrises, woven blankets, campfires, tigers, whiskey, monarchs, road trips.

Purple: geodes, club lights, ferris wheels, sunglasses, hummingbirds, eyeshadow, outer space. 

Blush: lollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses.

finally done with all of these — they're queued!

#long post