#Clear plastic serving bowls

[wildemaven]

don’t drink the punch | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 3382

-> content warning: 18+ blog; insecurities, jealousy, holiday party antics, mentions of food and alcohol, office gossip, smut (unprotected p in v, fingering, orgasms), there’s no mention of it but reader is on BC, Dave is divorced from Carol, Soft and Sweet Dave, let’s say this is AU and no murdering is happening (or that at least reader is not aware of), reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress with heels and lingerie, otherwise zero descriptive features for reader, I think that’s everything but let me know if I missed anything

-> notes: more soft Dave because he’s been rotting my brain and making me weak lately. This could be the same universe as Caught Kissing Santa, but also can be read as a stand alone piece too.

-> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“I would enjoy these holiday parties a little more if the drinks being served had some actual bite to them. Then I wouldn’t have to give another forced Thank You to my Secret Santa for another gift I’m just going to re-gift to an unsuspecting family member. Did I mention how much I hate these parties?” Cathy shares among the small group of you and a few others, tucked in the corner of this year's CIA Holiday Party. 

You laugh into your fluted glass of sparkling apple juice. Mainly because she’s right. These parties tend to be a little boring, as do most office holiday parties. Lacking any sort of decorum that would indicate there’s an actual party taking place. The lobby has far more holiday cheer than this conference room at the moment. 

Red streamers taped to the wall above the food table and green plastic table runners haphazardly draped over random surfaces help add some festive color to the drab atmosphere. But the tiny plastic tree with misshapen branches bent in different directions placed in the middle of the long table in the center of the room, really ties everything together. Due to budget cuts, there wasn’t much of an allowance for new decorations, according to Cathy. Thankfully, you had convinced Dave to keep leftovers decorations from last year’s party in the supply closet

Once gifts were exchanged, the party felt like it was dragging on longer than it should. Your feeting aching in the too high heels you always decide on, snacking on nearly stale bread and cold artichoke dip, most of the other items already picked over. You patiently wait for the moment everyone else decides it’s time to call it a night and meet up at a local bar to continue the celebration, all while you make your way home to enjoy the rest of the evening with order in pizza and comfy clothes. 

The majority of the party you spend talking with a few friends to pass the time. Catching up on random office gossip, the latest romance rumors that have all departments engrossed in every detail and any other dramatic news that you haven’t heard about. All topics are enough to keep you entertained for the time being. 

“Maybe if York wasn’t so tightly wound and put some actual effort into these things, they would be easier to enjoy.” Sheryl adds to the conversation. “Between us, I might have brought a small flask of vodka to add to the fruit punch— should make things a little more interesting.”

“I’m sure his hands are tied, so you can’t really fault him for not allowing the hard stuff. Plus, are you even allowed to drink on site?” You decide to give your opinion. While you do see where they’re coming from, you can’t really hold it against Dave for not wanting to deal with everyone liquored up. And you’re more than certain there’s a zero tolerance policy for alcohol anywhere in the building, clearly Dave is just following the rules. You’re more than fine enjoying several glasses of the fizzy juice, noting to steer clear of the punch bowl. 

“By the way— did you see the new tie York got? I’m shocked she made him put it on as soon as he opened it— a little awkward to do in front of everyone. I will say, it looks good though, doesn’t it?” Cathy points to where Dave and one of his much younger Agents are still talking on the other side of the room. 

You watch as he holds up the ends of the tie, as if they’re both discussing the color and material of it. He must have said something funny, because she’s laughing now. You no one notices the way you subtly roll your eyes when her hand reaches out to him, holding the side of his forearm as she talks. She must be telling him how hard it was to shop for him, but she just knew he’d love the tie. And how she spent hours searching for the right color— it's black.

She’s cute, whatever her name is. One of the newer recruits you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties. A young, confident woman whom you’re definitely not jealous of with all the attention Dave is giving her right now. She’s a good 10 years younger than you if you had to guess. She’s attractive too. Dave seems somewhat oblivious to her slightly flirtatious behavior. Being the nice guy that he is and giving her his undivided attention— makes sense. 

“Don’t you think it looks good?” You realize you’re being asked a question about said tie he’s wearing. 

“Yeah. It looks really good on him.” That’s a lie. It does look good, but you kind of hate that she gave it to him, given how flirty she's being towards him. It’s not anything you would have ever picked for a Secret Santa gift, especially for Dave. The premise of the gift exchange was supposed to be fun, silly gifts. She should have opted for a coffee mug that says, Tears of my Employees, but that’s just your opinion. “Such a great color, too.” That part is the truth, it is a great color on him. 

“Speaking of looking good— that dress on you is killer!” Sheryl shifts the compliments in your direction, catching you off guard and has you feeling slightly embarrassed at the attention. 

“Oh! This? It’s just something I picked up earlier this week. I feel a little overdressed though.” You say all demure like, looking down at the way the black material drapes over your body. The dress feels a bit much compared to everyone else’s business suit attire. The high cut of the slit and the low straight neckline with straps holding it onto your body have you sticking out more than you would like. 

“I’m sure Dave has told you plenty how beautiful you look in it.” Sheryl says confidently. 

“Umm—  no he hasn’t mentioned it. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him much today, actually.” You say meekly, looking back over in the direction of where Dave is. 

When you go to sneak a glance at him, he’s already looking at you, not caring what the cute younger Agent is saying in that moment. His attention fully focused on you. He gives you a wink, raising his half-empty glass— cheers to you from across the room. You mirror the gesture back to him, pairing it with a genuine smile now painted on your face. He turns his attention back to the younger cute Agent, both of them now joined by a pair of Agents from analytics. 

“Well, the night is still young. I’m sure he’ll be giving you all the praise soon enough.” Cathy says, pouring some red punch into her glass.

“Sure.” You smile politely at Cathy and Sheryl. “Umm, if you’ll both excuse me. I need to go use the ladies room.” Deciding you need a minute to yourself. Ditching your glass at the end of the long conference table, you make your way out of the room down the hall. Seeking out a few minutes of quiet to let your mind clear before heading back into the lackluster party. You catch Dave’s profile as you walk by the glass wall of the conference room, paying no mind to anyone outside the little holiday bubble he’s in. 

The echoing of your heels clicking against the tiled floor is the only sound you hear as the bathroom door shuts behind you. You debate whether or not you should give your feet a break from being stuck  in such a high arched position for so long, deciding against it at the thought of walking nearly barefoot in a bathroom. Placing your purse on the porcelain countertop, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Adjusting the straps on your shoulders, then sliding your hands down the front of your body. Admiring and reminding yourself how good you do look in this dress, it’s the main reason you decide to wear it tonight. 

You’re not even sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. You groan out loud into the unoccupied space for how you were comparing yourself to another woman— a woman you don’t even know. She doesn’t deserve that. Sometimes your insecurities creep in, clouding your mind with lies and false narratives you’ve conjured up. You brush it off. Grabbing your purse, you apologize mentally to yourself as you make your way back out into the hallway. As well as to the young woman who had also been on the receiving end of your near downward spiral. You’ll introduce yourself properly when you get back to the room. 

Someone must have found a speaker. A vibrant Christmas song, you can just barely make out, is coming from the conference room. Most likely another one of Sheryl’s attempts to liven up the crowd. You’d given anything to see the look on Dave’s face right now— he has the worst poker face when he’s annoyed. 

You’re halfway back to the party when you get distracted. An open door to an empty office has you intrigued. The plaque next to the door reads Dave York - Deputy Director NCS. Your fingers tracing over the carved out letters engraved on to the gold metal. 

Laughter pours out of the party filled room at the end of the hall. Your fingers pausing over the last letter of Dave’s name. Glancing back over your shoulder, double checking that you are alone. Shadowy figures are still milling about on the other side of the glass wall. The party far more alive than when you left it. The addition of music was just what it needed. 

You decide you’re in no rush to head back. The open door to Dave’s office practically welcoming you in. 

Wall to wall shelves behind Dave’s desk have some sort of lighting that adds a soft ambient glow to the otherwise dark room. The rest of the walls are adorned with college degrees and various certificates, years and years of hard work and dedication.

You toss your purse to the leather chair that is off to the side as you make your way to the large desk. It’s made of some dark slab of wood, the sleek angles and metal hardware gives it an elaborate modern look. The desk is cool to the touch, your fingertips following the grain of the wood, as you take in the details of Dave’s space. 

There’s a gold frame that catches your eye, twinkling under the dim lighting. You grab it from where it sits next to another photo of Dave’s daughters, Molly and Alice. 

You’re instantly drawn to Dave in the photo. The sheer happiness that’s evident in the smile he’s wearing. A smile that he doesn’t wear often at work or for many outside of it. His dark locks brushed off of his face, in a dressed up polished manner. Face cleanly shaven, allowing his dimple to be on full display. There’s also a brightness in his eyes. You admire the way the photographer was able to capture such a beautiful candid moment. 

“That’s my favorite picture” You turn to see Dave standing in the doorway of his office. Suit jacket discarded somewhere. His hands in his pants pockets. Head tilted ever so slightly as he slowly scans up your body until his eyes meet yours. 

“Hmm… You have to say that, it’s your wedding photo.” You say as a matter of fact. Turning back to his desk, you glance at the framed photo one last time. You finger brushing over the portion of the picture where his handsome face is. 

You’re too focused on the happy couple staring back at you, missing the barely audible sound of his shoes drifting over the carpeted floor as he slides up behind you. You nearly gasp at the sensation of his body pressed up against you, butterflies erupting in your stomach. His touch is captivating, evoking a sense of want, desire blooming immediately. 

Your body doesn’t shy away from the way his hands settle on your hips. Welcoming the way his lips move over your skin, a gentle trail of kisses that lead upwards from the round of shoulder to the small space below your ear. Your stomach tightens. Goosebumps erupting all over. 

“It’s our wedding photo.” A gentle squeeze of your hips as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. He plucks the frame from your grip, setting it back in its designated spot on his desk. 

“Are you trying to seduce me in your place of work, Mr. York?” A playful smile forms on your lips as you turn to face him, rucking the skirt of your dress over your hips as you sit on the edge of the desk, the silky material pooling around your waist. 

The insecurities you had been feeling earlier in the night, long gone, forgotten under his intense gaze. Your hands lay flat over his documents and files as you lean back into a more seductive position, careful to not disturb their tidiness. 

“Fuck, Baby. Looks like you’re the one doing the seducing, Mrs. York?” The new black lace panties and garter set you picked up this week on display for him. His hands glide over the black stockings that stop mid-thigh, his fingers slipping under the garter strap, continuing their upward movement, as he steps into the space between your legs. 

“Is it working?” You purr, knowing full well it is based on the grip he has on the apex of your thighs. A small yelp escapes your throat as he slides your lower half closer to the edge so your flush against him— not missing how hard he is under his black slacks. You carefully allow yourself to lay back fully over the desktop. 

Your hands catch the end of his new tie. Pulling at it tautly, bringing him down so he’s maneuvering his body over yours. One hand resting next to your head as the other guides one of your legs over his hip, encouraging you to wrap them around him. 

“I just got all of these papers in order. Hours of reading and organizing. They’re going to be a mess now.” Dave’s voice is honeyed, holding zero malice in his words. 

“I’m sure you can have one of your cute little Agents clean them up for you.” You tease, which only encourages his own seductive movements. Your eyes flutter shut at the way he ruts himself hard against your aching mound. Open mouth kisses delivered across your cleavage.

“Are you jealous, Mrs. York?” You can feel the way his lips perk into a smile on the top of your breast when he asks. 

“I-I was. She’s very pretty. But I know who you’re going home with at the end of the night.” Your fingers card through his soft locks at the base of his neck, your head tilted back as he soft nips at your jaw. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Julie finds you more attractive than she does me. She asked several times who the breathtaking woman in the black dress was.” That was a twist you hadn’t expected. 

“Oh! Did you let her down easily?” Dave’s wandering lips are halted by your question. He pulls back, eyes filled with reverence as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged with an unwavering love for each other. His hand gently cups the side of your face, thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip. 

“I told her how you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. How you make my life better. And that I don’t know what I did to deserve such a beautiful woman like you.” He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a wonderful father to his two girls and an incredible husband—  falling in love with him was one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. 

“Dave—“ Tears prick at your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, let me take you home so I can unwrap you properly.” He tries to lift himself off of you, but you have other plans— more exciting plans. 

Grabbing his face and pulling him back to you, your lips connect with his. Tongues melting into a fiery kiss. No further words needed, as your body does a fine job of conveying exactly what you need from him and you’re grateful he catches on quickly.

His hand slips under the lace material of your panties. Seeking out your pleasure as he alternates between soft deliberate circles over your throbbing clit and working you up with two fingers inside your warm cunt, hitting that delicious spot over and over again, causing you to bite back an explicit moan as you silently tip over the edge. 

Rushed movements blur into the next. Working together to free his hard cock from his boxers and pants. Forgoing the effort it takes to remove your elaborate straps and lace, pulling your underwear to the side is all that’s required before Dave is slowly sinking into you. 

Shared breaths and discreet whimpers fill Dave’s office. Nails biting into exposed skin with each heady thrust Dave delivers. Papers shuffling beneath you as your body tenses, arching into his. Dave senses you’re close, your vise-like grip has him nearing his own release. 

“Dave! —fuckfuckfuck—  Baby, I- I’m going to come!” You're breathless, trying your best to keep your voice low, not wanting to be heard by anyone. 

“I’m right there —shit!— with you, Sweetheart.” 

Your lips connect with Dave’s again as your orgasm surges through you, swallowing each other's moans and triggering Dave to spill inside of you. 

The room is nearly quiet again as Dave’s forehead rests on your chest. His skin is warm against yours.  Your lungs work effectively to help regulate your breathing to a normal state. 

A kiss placed over your heart, then to your lips before he’s slipping out of you. Dave adjusts your underwear back in place as you still lay boneless on his desk, body a tingling mess is bliss. 

“That was a first for us. Surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.” He smiles down at you as he tucks himself back into his boxers, tucking his dress shirt and refastening his slacks. 

“Hmmm— I’m not opposed to it happening more often— make sure to pencil me in.” You hum softly at him. You reach out for his hand to help you off the desk. His hands instantly catching you and your grip onto his shoulders, your legs a little wobbly when your heels hit the ground. 

Your dress adjusted, Dave’s tie situated, compliments exchanged —You look gorgeous in this dress, This tie was a nice choice, she did a great job picking it out— sweat patted down with a tissue— a valiant attempt to look less conspicuous as you both head back to the party hand in hand. 

You both decide to stay a longer, indulge in a little more of the festivities, you suggest ordering some pizza for everyone. Dave agrees and mentions also needing to call Carol at some point to tell the girls goodnight.  

“You think they will notice we were missing?” Dave asks, his arm wrapping your waiting and pulling into his side as you both stop at the door to the conference room. The space is still filled with boisterous laughter as music continues to keep the energy flowing. 

“I doubt it. They’re probably too busy discussing how boring your parties are.” You smirk at him. 

“Boring? Who’s saying they’re boring?” His head whips over to you. You can already see him mentally running through names, his signature scowl now visible, looking back at his fellow agents. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to stress about until the next one. I’m going to go introduce myself to Julie. I’ll see you in a bit.” You kiss his cheek and make your way back inside. You take a few steps before stopping and turning back to him, your dress skirt billowing out around your legs. “Dave, don’t drink the punch.”

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

[mellowsadistic]

Gluttony

Mary banged the tray of her highchair angrily with her fists. “No! I’m not eating that! I’m not!” She was practically bouncing up and down in her seat. Her breasts, barely concealed by her pink, princess-themed bib, bounced along with her, and her enormous adult nappy crinkled loudly.

“Oh yes you are, missy,” her mother said sternly, placing down a bowl of baby food in front of her fussy, thirty-year-old daughter and putting her hands on her hips. “You might have been a fussy food critic back when you were still a grown-up, but that’s over now. You’ll eat your num-nums like a good girl or else you’ll go to bed with a red bottom tonight! Or maybe I just won’t change your diaper all day. Would you like that? You’ll probably make a big poo-poo in your pants not long after you finish your lunchies. Do you really want to spend the rest of the day waddling around in a messy nappy?”

Mary’s face went scarlet. “You can’t treat me like this!” she cried furiously. “I’m a grown woman! You can’t talk to me this way!”

“I certainly can, little lady,” her mother said mildly. “The courts made it clear that you have to spend the next three years as a baby, and that means eating like one too. Really, it’s no more than you deserve after all those horrible reviews you wrote about those poor little family restaurants. And to think, all those things you said weren’t even true! Personally, I think it’s a good thing their lawyers tore you apart and got you sent back to Pampers. I clearly went wrong raising you somewhere, so this will be the perfect chance to give it another go.” She dipped a plastic spoon into the bowl of baby mush and lifted it to her daughter’s pouting lips. “Now say aah!”

Mary didn’t open her mouth, but her mother pressed the spoon forward all the same, smearing her lips with baby food. It was some kind of strained carrots mixture, and to Mary’s refined pallet, it tasted utterly disgusting. She was used to dining in fine restaurants, dressed up to the nines and being served by handsome waiters. To have all of that taken away, to be sent back to live with her mother, strapped into an oversized highchair being force-fed infant food, it was almost more than she could handle. But the truth was, she was hungry. And she really didn’t want to be stuck in a dirty diaper until bedtime. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth for the second spoonful.

“Good baby!” her mother cooed. Most of the food went into her daughter’s mouth this time, but she made sure to spill a little down her chin. Her daughter was just so cute with a mucky face!

Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust as she swallowed the carrot purée, but obediently opened her mouth for another bite. She might as well get it over with quickly, she decided. But her mother had every intention of savouring the experience. For the rest of the meal, she waved around the spoon like an aeroplane (“Open up the hanger for Mummy! That’s a good girl!”) or making chugging sounds like a train (“Choo-choo! The train’s coming up to the tunnel! Open wide, baby!”) while Mary sat there, blushing and feeling totally stupid, and by the time she’d finished the bowl, her lower face and bib were covered in baby food.

Her mother dropped the spoon into the plastic bowl with a clatter and whipped out her phone. Mary’s eyed widened, but before she could raise her hands to cover her face, her mother had snapped a picture of her.

“This one’s going straight onto Facebook,” her mother said happily to herself, looking down at the picture with adoring eyes. She was clearly thrilled her have her baby back.

“Stop it, Mum!” Mary wailed. “It’s bad enough that I have to do this at all! I don’t want everyone else to see! Please!”

“Oh hush, baby,” her mother said, taking a cloth and getting to work wiping her daughter’s messy face. “There’ll be no hiding this, so you might as well get used to people knowing. Not that I’d want to keep my adorable little girl a secret from anyone! Now come along, sweetie.” Mary found herself being lifted up out of her highchair and hoisted into her mother’s arms, her bottom resting on her hip. “Time to go into the living room. You’re not quite done feeding yet!”

“What?” Mary asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t had anything to drink yet, silly!” her mother chuckled, but that made Mary frown. Why were they leaving the kitchen then?

Her mother went through to the room next door and took a seat on the sofa, laying Mary down against her, her head resting against her chest. With a plummeting sensation in her stomach, Mary realised that she was probably about to be bottle-fed. But her mother didn’t seem to have one with her… Then she lifted up her shirt, and Mary saw the maternity bra beneath.

“No!” she shrieked. “No way! I’m not doing that! I’m not!” She tried to get up, but her mother held her down.

“You will if you want a nappy change anytime today, sweetheart.” And with that, she shoved the nipple of her breast into her daughter’s mouth, and held her head against her.

Mary looked up into her mother’s eyes desperately, silently pleading with her, but her mother just looked back warningly.

For a few moments, Mary didn’t move. She just lay there, her cheeks bright red with shame, her lips clamped around her mother’s breast. And then, with a low, embarrassed whine, she started to suck. Thick, rich breastmilk poured down her throat at once, warm and sweet and horrible. But once she’d started, the milk flowed into her mouth, and it was difficult to stop.

“That’s my good girl,” her mother crooned softly, brushing Mary’s hair. “It’s so lovely to do this again. It’s such a good bonding experience for Mummy and baby. After you got sentenced, the courts recommended a doctor I could speak to, and I was amazed at how quickly he said he could induce lactation. There’s a very special drug he gave me that helped me start doing it almost straight away! And the best part is, the doctors said the milk it produces is addictive! Isn’t that amazing? Just think, after a few weeks back on the breast, you’ll start to crave it. I can’t wait to see you tug on my skirts in public and beg for a breastfeed!”

Mary squealed with horror around the nipple in her mouth, but her mother barely noticed. She was too busy giggling at the thought of her adult daughter pleading for a suckle in front of her friends. “It’ll be so adorable! And just think, when your Regression Sentence ends, I’ll actually have to wean you off my boobs!”

Mary cringed with shame and clenched her eyes tightly shut, still continuing to guzzle down her mother’s breastmilk at a steady pace. She was starting to feel bloated, and for the first time she wondered, with a pang of fear, whether her slim, sexy figure would survive two years of baby food and breastmilk. She was very proud of her tight, toned stomach, but now the vision of herself with a slightly pudgy belly appeared in her mind. Just a little bit of baby fat, but enough to turn her from sexy to cute. She could just picture her mother and her friends pinching her cheeks and blowing raspberries on her tummy, and the thought made her want to sink into the sofa and disappear.

At last, her mother gently pulled her head away from her chest, and her nipple popped free. Mary groaned. She was feeling very full.

“Well done, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “That’s one down. Only one more to go!”

Mary whimpered. She was about to complain that she’d had enough, when she was distracted by a sudden pressure in her bladder. She gasped. She didn’t know if it had been something in the food, or another quality of her mother’s special breastmilk, or if it was something else entirely, but the need to pee had arisen so quickly and powerfully that she barely had time to react. Her hands clutched at the front of her nappy, her eyes went wide and, while her mother looked down at her with a grin, she started to wet.

“No!” she squealed, and her mother tittered.

“Uh-oh! Looks like it’s tinkle-time for Mummy’s wittle princess! There’s no need to look so scared, sweetie. That’s what your nappy’s for!”

Mary just lay there in shock, trying in vain to stop the flow of the warm rush of pee as it soaked her diaper. Worse, she could feel a rumbling in her tummy that let her know that it wouldn’t be long before she was doing something even yuckier in it.

“Mummy promises you’ll get used to all of this, darling,” her mother went on gently. “Yummy baby food, yucky nappies, and of course, plenty of time snuggled up with Mama, drinking from her breasts. We’ll be doing it all every day for the next two years – even out in public!”

At that, Mary started to cry, but her mother just shushed her gently and guided her other breast into the woman’s waiting mouth. She was sure her daughter would feel much better with a full tummy.

#mellowsadistic

[acapelladitty]

Have a wee indulgent Riddler/Reader nsfw snippet with Edward suffering through some very wicked "temptations" at the hands of his partner as he's trying to work hard.

Staring daggers into the back of her head, a frustrated indignation curled around Edward's chest as his fingers tapped against the heavy wooden desk beneath his hand.

It was a typical annoyance and the irritation of it only served to make the throb of his cock even more distracting as he once again adjusted his slacks at the groin.

She was tempting him and he knew it.

An oversized shirt, one which looked similar to his own, hung off her shoulders as she pottered around his workstation, clearing up empty coffee mugs as she hummed a nonsensical tune and allowed the open fabric to hug her curves.

Every time she bent over to collect some of the mess, the shirt would ride up to expose the thickness of her thighs - livid red marks and developing bruises in the shape of fingerprints marking up the skin in such a way that even the slight peek of them made his lips curl into a satisfied smirk.

He had more than had his fill of her the previous night and the taste of her lingered on his lips like the finest wine, something sweet and rare that was to be savoured.

A temptress and a minx, her vicious wiles would not drag him from the task at hand and his fingers curled against his knees as he willed away the thoughts of just how tactful a little afternoon delight could be. Her bra, hitched up roughly to expose her ample chest while her legs lay spread wide across his desk as he dragged blunt teeth across her neck. His cock, disappearing between the pillowy folds of her-

No.

He would resist and she would not win this little game.

x-x-x-x-x

On the other side of the room, your face mildly twisting in distaste at a small plastic bowl which held the stiffened remnant of snacks that should have been binned days ago, Edward was the furthest thing from your mind. Humming away some song you vaguely remember hearing on the radio earlier, you roll your eyes at nothing as you focus on cleaning up the various messes that the self-proclaimed genius seemed incapable of dealing with himself.

#riddler #edward nygma #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma x you #riddler fic #edward nigma #edward nashton

[annadoingshitpoorly]

I’ll Hold Your Hands (They’re Just like Ice) - Tess Servopoulos x Sick! Reader

SOOOO... this is the first fic I’m actually posting on Tumblr in a lonnnnnng time, so if y’all have got any suggestions that would be great! IF YOU SEE SPELLING MISTAKES - SQUINT.

Word Count: 1.1K - She’s a lil shorty.

Minors, Men and Fuckheads dni 💚

(Tess is so hot, she has my little gay heart going pitter-patter.)

The Boston QZ wasn't the cleanest place in the world or what was left of it, and with the snow starting to cover more and more of the pavements it was only a matter of time before one of you got sick. The FEDRA agents had begun to pick up a bit of a trail Tess and Joel had been careless enough to leave, so you’d been picking up extra shifts shoveling snow off the roads to get enough cards to sustain the three of you while your partner and her right-hand man laid low. The winter gloves that you’d salvaged a couple years back from a strip mall just off I-95 while on a run out to Lincoln were threadbare but served you better than no protection from the bitter ice, the winter before having claimed many a toe or finger from those around you as frostbite set in, and your boots weren't much better. It was only a matter of time before you fell ill. And ill did you fall.

Coughing up your lungs, a fever that was practically cooking you from the inside out had left you bedridden. A large plastic bowl filled with water sat on the bedside table with a spare rag floating in it, a light sheet covered you as you lay sweating buckets while the itchy top quilt sat balled around your feet. Floating in and out of consciousness, mind fuzzy and body preoccupied with trying to beat the sickness, you don’t notice the hesitant opening of the bedroom door nor the soft footfall of Tess as she makes her way to you. A gentle hand comes to rest against your forehead and has you bolting up at the unexpected touch.

 “Easy sweetheart, it’s jus’ me. Gotta check you’re not completely burning up…” Her voice is soft and gravely as she moves the damp cloth from your forehead and replaces it with the fresh one from the bowl, the cool wetness now coating your brow instantly provides you with great relief as Tess’ firm hands guide your body back down against the pillows. She fiddles around you, tucking the light sheets and heavy quilt taut against your near comatose frame, the tightness and the overwhelming heat from too many layers causes you to mumble under your breath, “...’s too much Tess…”

She just smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before returning to full height, “You know as well as anyone that we need to break that fever, sweet cheeks.” You watch as she draws the moth-eaten curtains to block out as much light as possible before turning and heading out into the kitchen where you catch a slip of the broad shoulders of Joel sitting at the table hunched over as she closes the door gently behind herself. The large fluffy flakes of snow pelting against the window and swirling around outside the window mesmerize your slowed brain and lull you into a dreamless inky dark sleep.

A tentative weight being placed on the end of the mattress wakes you, rubbing sleep from your eyes your gaze meets Tess’, her looking at you with unfathomable worry. “Hey again, sleepyhead, how’s your head?” 

“I-I,” your voice cracks from disuse, clearing your throat, you try again. “I’m fine, Tess, promise. Just a Lil bit sor-” A cough racks your lungs, forcing you up from your lying position, bent chest over legs as you struggle to catch your breath. Lithe arms wrap around you, pulling you straight and supporting your head on a bony shoulder as one hand moves soothingly up and down your spine and the other scratches deep into your scalp as air finally floods into your lungs. “That’s m’ girl, easy now, big breaths.” Tess’ soft encouragement falls on deaf ears as you breathe her in, split ends tickling your nose as they peek out from the bandana sitting across her head. The two of you sit there content in the comfortable silence, the sounds filling the room are soft breathing and the rustling of hair as Tess’ nails dig into your head, relieving the tension from your forehead and clearing the fog from your mind.

The peace is broken by a knock on the door.

“What ya want, Joel?” Her voice shaking you as her chest reverberates under your ear, and you’d slumped over asleep on her without realizing it.

“Soup’s done, tha’s all.”

“Come on sweetheart, lean up a little for me.” She positions you so that you’re sitting up flush against the headboard of the creaky old bed, arms by your sides. “Do you wanna come out to eat? Or will I bring it to you?” Bring what? Oh! Dinner… 

“I don't know if I could eat, Tess…”

“I’ll bring it to ya, you’re gonna eat.”

Before you can argue she’s up and gone. All you can do is listen as she talks to Joel, you can’t make out her wording exactly but she’s concerned you can tell by the tone and the lack of anything but grunts of agreement on Joel’s part. The clattering of dishes and cutlery are the only indicators of what stage everything is at on the other side of the grubby chipped door.

The creaking of the door hinge pulls your attention away from the now-blizzarding snow outside the window. Tess holds a small bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, she sits next to you on the bed. 

“Tess… I’m not hung-”

“You’re eating, no arguing.” The order comes clear as day, and you obey. You always do. A small spoon dips into the mix of vegetables and broth, before the woman in front of you brings the spoon to your mouth. Gently placing it inside your mouth once it opens, the heat of the liquid warms you down to your toes. Tess repeats the same process, resting every once in a while until the bowl is empty and your stomach feels full.

“You’re gonna feel better after that, sweetheart. And if you don’t, I’ll eat my fuckin’ hat.” She sets the bowl on the bedside table before climbing into the bed next to you. Curling up into her side, head on her chest, the sound of her heart beating and the air entering and leaving her lungs lulls you over to sleep as she fixes the quilt around your shoulders.

As you sleep, belly full and sniffles diminished, Joel peeks his head round the door frame and looks to Tess, only to find her out for the count as well. A smile pulling at her lips and her brow unfurrowed, seemingly content with you in her arms.

#made this after seeing someone complain at the lack of tess x readers where joel isnt involved #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x you #tlou x reader #tlou #sickfic #joel is there but isnt really involved #tess servopoulos #tess is mommy #tess x reader

[desertdollranch]

When American Girl first announced their partnership with Jeni’s Ice Cream to make some cute playsets and products, I had never heard of Jeni’s. I assumed that it was a brand that was local to the Wisconsin area, where AG’s headquarters are located.

I was so enchanted by these cute things that I wanted to reproduce some of the products for my own dolls, without spending very much. So I dug in a little deeper on reading about Jeni’s. It turns out I was mostly wrong about them. Jeni’s Ice Cream does have shops in large cities across the United States (none in my state), but you can also buy it in pints at Whole Foods Market! I don’t recall AG ever actually mentioning that. Maybe assume that all their customers are upper-class and are familiar already with where to obtain premium and luxury brands? 

If you haven’t checked out their full line of product collaborations, go look now. There’s an ice cream truck, an outfit, a waffle cone maker, a cafe table, and some itty bitty bowls of ice cream that are scented. All of it is super cute, but in typical AG fashion, quite expensive.

I swung by Whole Foods the last time I went into the city, and Grace (my little foodie friend) and I gave it a try. There are around a dozen varieties and a few are even dairy free. It was hard to choose which ones to get. Since it’s begun to feel like summer, I picked out Sweet Cream Biscuits & Peach Jam, and Wildberry Lavender. Both remind me of Grace’s collection: sweet, summery, and pastel-colored. 

Grace and I agree.... the peach was excellent, but the lavender was outstanding. It does indeed taste as expensive as it is, at around $8 a pint, so it’s not something we’ll have more than once or twice a year. 

Grace wasn’t too happy about being told that this won’t be a weekly treat. So she got the idea to make and serve ice cream in her and her family’s pastry shop, La Grande Patisserie! 

I was happy to help her out. 

For the first step, we tracked down some doll-sized ice cream containers. 

I didn’t have to go to Whole Foods Market to find these. They were in my local grocery store. Perfectly small, and proportional to 18 inch dolls! From the left they are Häagen-Dazs chocolate, Häagen-Dazs coffee, and Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough. We got 4 total containers of cookie dough, so that I could try out a half dozen different methods of making the doll ice cream.

After Grace and I emptied the containers over the course of about a week, I used air-dry clay to reproduce the ice cream in a non-perishable form. 

Chocolate and coffee are in the middle, while the outer four corners are cookie dough flavor. 

Most of the time I shape my objects before I paint them, but in this case I mixed acrylic paint with the clay, using varying amounts of paint. Then while it was still soft, I dragged a small serrated knife across the clay to give it the right texture. 

Now to create the scoops.

I found these clear plastic bowls at Dollar Tree. Also perfectly doll-sized. 

And here are the scoops! I formed small clay spheres and then roughed up the surface with the same knife. Then I used a toothpick to dot on the chocolate chips.

Grace gave it two spoons up. 

These were a practice run. Next, we’re going to figure out how to make Jeni’s ice cream, specifically, and the containers, so we have more colors and flavors to work with. Grace wants to send some of these first drafts to my mom’s dolls, and maybe we’ll even sell the ones that turned out the best. 

We also intend to come up with an easy, efficient way to make plastic spoons, and then we’ll come back to this post for part 2!

#grace thomas #girl of the year 2015 #doll food #doll crafts

[sequinsmile-x]

Mirror Image

He was sure when their daughter was older he’d love her wilfulness, the stubborn streak she’d got from both of them. They were traits that would help her when she needed them, things that had served both him and Emily well. 

But right now, he really just wanted her to eat her breakfast. 

-x-

This is a belated birthday present for the lovely @whitecrossgirl. You are the ultimate hype woman and I will forever be grateful for your friendship and the way you yell at me when I write something angsty <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Daddy, you’re doing it wrong.” 

Aaron sighs and looks up from the plastic Frozen plate he’d put his daughter’s toast onto, and he looks at his three-year-old, his eyebrow raised as he looks at her across the kitchen counter. 

“Alice, it’s toast. I don’t think it’s possible to get it wrong,” he says patiently, cutting it into strips for her before he places it in front of her. 

“Mommy does it different,” she says, looking up at him with the same wide dark eyes she’d inherited from his wife, “She lets me have her toast.” 

Aaron frowns, his lack of sleep from the last several days catching up with him as he tries to understand what his daughter is telling him, “So, you eat Mommy’s toast for breakfast?”

Alice nods enthusiastically, and Aaron groans, recalling just a week ago as he watched his little girl eating toast off of Emily’s plate. Something he hadn’t thought about every other morning Emily had been away because breakfast had been bowls of cereal, Alice and Jack had talked him into the sugary stuff more than once, before he got them out of the house for school. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage his children, but Emily’s absence was sharply felt by all of them. She was in London helping Clyde with a case, a favour Aaron knew from the nightly phone calls he had with her she regretted agreeing to, and wasn’t coming home for another two days. He missed her, wasn’t used to being in their home without her, and he knew both Alice and Jack felt the same way. 

Alice, however, had struggled the most. 

As soon as they found out Emily was pregnant with her they had conversations about what that would mean for both of them continuing working for the BAU. Ultimately, Emily decided that she would find something different. She only became more sure that was something she wanted to do when they found out they were having a daughter, as if it became all the more clear to her that she didn’t want to repeat the cycle she’d grown up in. Ultimately, either through good timing or Clyde interfering, Aaron knew which one he considered more likely, a position at the Interpol office in DC came up and she took the job. 

It had been a change for all of them, and he missed spending so much time with his wife, but it had been a good one. Made clear whenever he’d come home from a long case to find his family all curled up on the couch and waiting for him. An understanding smile on Emily’s face as they silently agreed they’d talk about whatever horror he’d seen later before the kids jumped on him, thrilled to have him back. Emily being away was different. The job Clyde had found, or created, for her was mostly office based. She had a large team who did the majority of the fieldwork and on the odd occasion she went away it was only for a night or so. This, by the time she got home, would be a week. The longest she had ever been away from Alice since she was born, and the little girl had struggled with it. 

Everything he did was ‘wrong’ or ‘not how mommy does it.’ He knew it wasn’t personal, that Alice loved him, but she had been all about Emily since the moment she was born. A tiny dot of a thing that would only sleep curled up on her mother’s chest and cried if she was taken too far away from her. 

He couldn’t blame his daughter. His wife was his favourite person too, but it meant he’d spent the vast majority of the last week trying to convince a mini version of his wife to do things she didn’t want to do. He was sure when their daughter was older he’d love her wilfulness, the stubborn streak she’d got from both of them. They were traits that would help her when she needed them, things that had served both him and Emily well. 

But right now, he really just wanted her to eat her breakfast. 

He sighs and leans down next to her, his elbows on the kitchen counter as he makes himself her height, “Sweetheart, Mommy isn’t here,” he says, his heart aching a little at the sadness in her eyes, “So I can’t make you her toast.” 

She sighs as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and looks down at the, rapidly cooling, toast he put in front of her before looking back up at him, “You can make Daddy’s toast?”

“Sure,” he says, standing back up and picking up the bread before slipping another slice into the toaster, “Daddy’s toast coming right up.” 

He smiles as his daughter beams at him, and he shakes his head. He was counting down the seconds until his wife came home.

___

Emily groans as she sits in her seat, immediately having to readjust to get the tiniest bit comfortable, her hand on her ever-expanding stomach as she settles down. The next 8 hours were going to be long. She could barely sleep on a commercial flight at the best of times, let alone when she was 6 months pregnant, but she was looking forward to getting home and seeing Aaron and the kids. She knew she’d miss them, but she was surprised by how much, by how it felt like she’d left a part of herself at home.

She supposed, in some way, she had.

It was still strange to think that this was her life now. That she had roots so deeply anchored into the ground back home that she felt unsteady when she was away from her family. It was something she had grown up without. Something she’d had to get used to when she and Aaron first got together. The sense of belonging that she had searched for in all the wrong places her entire life. She wanted to provide it for Jack, Alice and the little boy she was currently carrying, and she never wanted them to doubt for one moment that they were loved. 

At first, she’d almost turned Clyde down for this trip, unsure if she wanted to go or, if she was honest, if he was just asking her to go over to mess with her. Ever since she’d turned down his initial job offer for London he’d make jokes about how he’d get her over there one day, how she’d get bored of family life, of the extraordinary ordinary day-to-day she coveted, and come crawling back to him. 

Aaron, despite the fact he did not appreciate those jokes from her old boss and friend, gently encouraged her to go. His hand on her bump as he reminded her it would be a while before she would get the chance to go again. 

She’d enjoyed herself. She’d laughed at Clyde as she told him, with a completely straight face, that she was going to name her son after him and watched his horrified reaction before she told him she’d never dream of actually doing it. She’d done some good with the team there, bringing them up to par with her own team at home. She’d had a taste of the life she could have had, and it made her all the more grateful for what she was about to go back to. 

“Good thing I booked first class, huh?” She whispers, rubbing her bump, smiling as she feels her son shift under her skin, “I don’t think there would be enough room for both of us in a regular seat, sweet boy.” 

“I was just about to offer you a cocktail for take off,” the air steward says, smiling at Emily as she looks up at her, “But I can see that won’t be necessary.” 

Emily chuckles politely and runs her hand over her belly again, “No,” she says, looking at the tray of mimosas with some envy, “Not this time anyway.” 

“Can I get you anything else, ma’am?” 

Emily smiles at the other woman, her unending cheeriness seemingly catching, “Actually, I would kill for a soda, a Diet Coke or something,” she says, sighing at just the thought of it, “My husband is a bit crazy when it comes to my nutrition, so I’d best make the most of it before I land back at home.” 

She knew Aaron meant well. That his attempts to sneak fruit and vegetables into her food with the same tricks they used on their toddler were only because he cared, and that it was something he could control, but it was driving her insane. He’d done the same thing when she was pregnant with Alice and it had led to an argument where he’d apologised with Del Taco, approaching her in their bedroom like she was a lion in its enclosure that he was offering food to. 

Thankfully he’d been a little more chilled out this time around.

“I’ll get that for you right away,” the air stewardess says before turning around and heading back towards the kitchenette. 

Emily smiles as she settles back into her seat a little more, grateful for the extra room, and she chuckles as the baby kicks particularly hard. 

“You’re not going to let me get any sleep are you?” 

___

By the time she picks up her luggage, she’s exhausted. 

A kind man lifts her bag from the carousel for her and she thanks him, yawning as she wheels it away and towards the arrival lounge. She’s idly thinking about getting a cup of tea before she gets her Uber when she hears a familiar voice shouting, stopping her from walking any further.

“Mommy!” 

She turns to see Alice running towards her, Jack and Aaron just a few paces behind, her little arms outstretched. Her wild hair is tied back in two braids, and she’s wearing an FBI t-shirt Derek had bought her as well as a bright pink tutu and leggings from Penelope. Emily immediately feels the burn in the back of her throat as she looks at her family, her eyes filling with tears she will absolutely blame on the baby and not on the fact they’d all made her soft. 

“Hi, sweet girl,” she exclaims, letting go of the handle of her suitcase and bending down just enough to pick up Alice as she reaches her, the little girl's arms tight around her neck. She picks her up, wincing slightly at the pull in her back as she straightens up. Alice hugs her tightly, perched on top of Emily’s bump, and she hugs her back just as fiercely. She kisses the side of her daughter's head, tension she didn’t realise was in her chest dissipating at the familiar scent of her shampoo, “I missed you so much.” 

“Missed you, Mommy,” Alice says, her face pressing into her mother’s neck, “You were gone for so long.”

Emily holds her a little tighter, guilt she hadn’t known was possible before she became a parent and work caused her to miss one of Jack’s soccer games burning at the inside of her chest. It felt like no matter what she was doing the wrong thing. As if she was somehow letting her children down. In moments like this, she wondered how her mother pushed through it. If she’d spent years perfecting how not to be affected by not showing up to dance or piano recitals or even school presentations. 

Sometimes, she wondered if her mother ever felt it at all. 

“Mommy’s home now though,” Aaron says as he reaches them, his arm around Emily as he leans in for a kiss, winking as he pulls away to let her know they were all fine, her emotions are clear as day to him, just as his exhaustion was clear to her. He places his hand on her bump, smiling at the feeling of the baby moving. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” she says back to him, kissing him once more, “I was supposed to get a cab.” 

He hums, raising his eyebrow at her, “Yeah, because I was going to let my pregnant wife get a cab home from the airport. Garcia would never have forgiven me.” 

She laughs before turning her attention to Jack, “Hi honey, are you ok?” 

He nods enthusiastically as he wraps his arms around her other side, sandwiching her in between all the members of her family, “Missed you, Mom.” 

She adjusts Alice to remove an arm from around her so she can pull her oldest in closer for a hug, smiling as Alice grasps even tighter at her as if she was trying to climb under her skin, “You too.” 

They stand there for a moment before Aaron is the first to detach, he nods towards Alice, “Want me to take her?” 

Emily shakes her head, “I can carry her to the car.” 

Whether he agrees with her or not, he nods and reaches for the handle of her suitcase, “Come on,” he says, leading the way towards the parking garage, “Let’s get Mom home.” 

___

Aaron walks out of the ensuite after he finishes his nightly routine and into the master bedroom. He stops just shy of the bed when he sees Alice curled up in the middle of it, the toddler fast asleep and her arm thrown over Emily, her small hand resting over her baby brother. 

“I seem to remember putting her in her own bed only a couple of hours ago,” he says quietly, his smile widening as Emily looks up at him, her own smile shy. 

“She snuck in when you were in the bathroom,” Emily replies, running her hands through the toddler’s hair, “I didn’t want to send her back to her room.” 

Aaron shakes his head fondly as he climbs into bed next to them, “If I’m being honest, she slept in here every night you were gone,” he admits, looking at Alice as she sleeps, “On your side of the bed. She missed you.” 

Emily blows out a slow breath as she continues to play with the little girl's hair, “I missed her too,” she replies, smiling at her husband, “All of you.” 

He watches her carefully, how there’s tension in her jaw. A slight tremble to her chin. And a look in her eyes that she only let him see, a vulnerability that she couldn’t keep hidden from him if she tried. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” 

She sighs, “Yeah, I’m ok. It’s just…” she drifts off, not entirely sure how to put it into words, “I guess I got a taste of what my life could have been if I’d taken Clyde’s offer,” she says, “And it would have been great. I would have been happy there but it wouldn’t have been this. I can’t imagine my life without you and Jack,” she looks back down at Alice, “or her,” she laughs humourlessly, her spare hand resting on her belly, “Or him. It’s like I saw the other side of the coin or something. And I feel a little…” 

“Off balance?” He offers as she struggles to finish her sentence, and she nods as she looks back up at him. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “Quite literally actually, I think my centre of gravity shifted yesterday,” she narrows her eyes, “Clyde kept saying I was waddling.” 

“I could punch him, if you want,” he offers, placing his hand on her stomach.

She laughs, “You’d fly all the way there to hit him for me?” 

He nods without hesitating, “I’d do anything for you.” 

She shakes her head at him, her teeth digging into her lower lip and she places a hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss, “I love you. I’m so glad this is my life. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if our son is making me waddle.” 

“I love you too,” he says, stamping another kiss against her lips, “And you’re beautiful,” he leans down to press a kiss to her belly, doing the same to Alice’s forehead before he sits back up, “I’m glad this is our life too.” 

She smiles at him and leans into his side as he wraps his arm around her, careful not to disturb Alice as she moves, “So…she gave you hell, huh?”

Aaron groans and kisses the side of her head, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

She chuckles, “And the outfit at the airport?”

“You’re lucky I talked her down to the tutu,” he says, running his hand up and down her arm, “She wanted to wear her dinosaur costume.” 

Emily smiles as she looks down at their daughter, fast asleep between them, “We have got to talk to Pen about the number of costumes she buys her. Alice was ok though? Apart from sleeping in here and running you ragged?”  

He hums in response, “Well, she definitely has your attitude,” he says, smiling when she gasps in outrage, “I just hope that she uses it to be a CEO or something, not the leader of a gang in prison.” 

She sits up to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Hey,” she exclaims, lightly slapping the shoulder she’d been leaning against, “She would run an excellent gang.” 

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

The pandemic sent hunger soaring in Brazil. They're fighting back with school lunches.

The kindergarteners sing at the top of their lungs as they hop and skip their way around the corner and into the small cafeteria at São Paulo's Professor Lourdes Heredia Mello Municipal School.

"Twenty-four, 25, 26!" they shout, counting the number of steps they take before lining up single-file to serve themselves lunch at the buffet-style steam table that, just like the tables and chairs where they sit to eat, is kid-sized.

As he waits his turn, Davi Lucas fidgets with his hands and strains his neck to see the sample plate of food on a side table and another dish of vegetables showing them what's been used to make their meal.

On today's menu is one of the 6-year-old's favorites — pasta with fresh tomato sauce. There's also tuna with vegetables and a kale salad, two things he wouldn't have touched before trying them at school.

He scoops a generous portion of pasta onto his clear glass plate — no plastic or disposable items are used here — and a small spoonful each of tuna and salad.

A knife and fork in hand, he chooses a seat next to his friends at one of the three long tables. When they finish eating, gabbing about who cleared their plates and using napkins to wipe their tomato-stained mouths, they place their dishes in a large bin for washing and take a bowl of fruit salad before heading toward small outdoor tables. Rosemary, basil and mint planted in terracotta pots sit at their center.

While they finish their dessert, another classroom of kindergarteners files into the cafeteria, ready to repeat the same routine.

At Professor Lourdes Heredia Mello Municipal School, like all public schools in Brazil, children are provided meals for free. It's a government program for which the South American country has been widely lauded, feeding more than 40 million students, from daycare through high school, across 5,570 municipalities. The program has become a pillar of post-COVID efforts to keep kids fed and in school. It also provides economic opportunities for farmers and employment for some parents — benefits that officials hope will grow in coming years.

Continue reading.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #education #economy #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A bowl full of fried rice, peas, carrots, and seared chicken. End ID.]

Chinese 'chicken' fried rice / 鸡肉炒饭

Soy sauce, toasted sesame oil, white pepper, and kala namak produce a rich, savory, umami base for whatever vegetables you have on hand in this vegan version of a classic fried rice recipe. I give instructions for adding marinated 'chicken' and/or 'egg', but this recipe is just as delicious when made only with carrots and peas.

Mush often comes of attempting to make fried rice from rice that's been cooked according to package directions; crowded pans or unevenly heated woks also lead to underwhelming results. This recipe specifies the perfect ratio of rice to water by weight (though volumetric measurements are also provided), and gives a few tips for producing even, separated, well-fried rice grains.

Patreon | Tip jar

Serves 8.

INGREDIENTS:

For the chicken (optional):

250-300g unbreaded vegan chicken substitute (I used Gardein)

2 tbsp Chinese-style light soy sauce

1 Tbsp Shaoxing wine (or substitute dry sherry or mirin, or a "mirin-style condiment" for a version with less alcohol)

1 tsp cornstarch

Crack of black pepper

For the dish:

285g (1 1/2 cup) long-grain white rice

95g (1/2 cup) jasmine rice

About 608g (2 1/2 cups) water

2 carrots, diced

3 scallions, sliced

1/2 cup peas

3 shallots, diced

1-inch chunk ginger (10g), crushed and chopped

6 cloves garlic, julienned

1/4 cup Chinese-style light soy sauce

1 tbsp toasted sesame oil

1 Tbsp vegetarian oyster sauce (optional)

1 tsp kala namak (black salt; for an eggy taste, if you're not using a scrambled egg substitute)

Several Tbsp refined peanut oil or untoasted sesame oil

2 tsp white peppercorns, toasted and ground

1/2 Tbsp MSG (optional)

10 fl. oz (300 mL) vegan scrambled egg substitute (optional)

About 4 cups of leftover rice may be substituted for the dry rice in this recipe. You can also make this recipe with frozen mixed vegetables or any other vegetables you happen to have on hand (sliced celery, napa cabbage ripped into bite-sized pieces, etc.). Mixing long-grain white and jasmine rice yields a mixture with the firm, separated texture of white and the nutty aroma of jasmine rice; but 380g of long-grain white rice or of jasmine rice may be used instead of a blend of both.

Refined peanut oil (which has a higher smoke point than unrefined) and untoasted sesame oil are standard in Chinese cooking; they have high smoke points, which is a must in oils that will be used at high heats, and impart a pleasant nutty flavor to the final dish.

Chinese-style soy sauce (likely to be sold as "light" or "thin" soy sauce in the US) is distinct from Japanese-style soy sauce (such as Kikkoman's); it uses wheat flour only to aid in fermentation, while Japanese soy sauces owe more of their flavor to toasted wheat. Pearl River Bridge, Amoy, Lee Kum Kee, and Koon Chun's "light" versions are examples of Chinese-style soy sauces--but note that all-purpose soy sauces produced by these brands for export may be Japanese-style.

INSTRUCTIONS:

For the chicken:

1. Mix all marinade ingredients (soy sauce, wine, cornstarch, and black pepper) in a large mixing bowl. Add thawed chicken and stir to coat. Cover and refrigerate while you prep the vegetables.

For the rice:

1. Measure out rice into a large bowl. Rinse it 3-4 times in cool water until the water runs mostly clear to remove excess starch: you can do this by transferring the rice to a mesh strainer that fits closely inside a mixing bowl; filling the bowl with water and lowering the strainer into it, agitating the rice to release excess starch; then lifting the strainer and changing the water.

I always rinse my rice when making rice not intended to be sticky; you may be able to get away with skipping this step, though, if you buy your rice in plastic bags (not permeable cloth ones) and are careful not to add too much water.

2. Add rice and water to a large pot (remove 1 Tbsp from the water measurement per cup of rice if you rinsed it, to account for the water still clinging to the recipe; for this recipe, you'll need 2 1/4 cup + 2 Tbsp).

I recommend using a kitchen scale, if you have one; it enables you to be more precise with the rice to water ratio. Tare out your bowl; weigh your rice (380g total), then rinse it; return it to the bowl (without re-taring) and add water until you reach a total weight of 988g (1.6 times as much water as rice by weight). This automatically and exactly accounts for the amount of water clinging to the rinsed rice.

3. Heat the rice on high until the water begins to boil; reduce the heat to low (or whatever is required to maintain a low simmer), cover the pot, and cook the rice for 15 minutes.

4. Remove the rice from heat without lifting the lid and allow to steam for another 5 minutes.

5. Fluff the rice with a fork or wooden spoon. Spread it out in a single layer on one or two baking trays and leave them uncovered until they cool to room temperature, to allow rice to let off excess steam.

6. For best results, cover and refrigerate the rice for a few hours, or overnight.

For the dish:

1. If you're using a wok on a Western stove, heat it on medium for 10-15 minutes while you prepare your vegetables to encourage even heating (Western stoves are not usually capable of quickly bringing woks to the temperatures best for making fried rice; if the bottom is much hotter than the sides, your rice may not fry well). Otherwise, use a large skillet.

2. Prepare your vegetables. This dish comes together quickly once cooking begins, so it's a good idea to have all your prep work done first.

3. Mix soy sauce, toasted sesame oil, oyster sauce, and kala namak in a small bowl.

4. Add peanut or untoasted sesame oil and raise heat to high. Once wisps of smoke appear, add chicken (leave any extra marinade in the bowl) and sear on both sides. Remove chicken from pan and scramble egg mixture by pouring it into the pan and immediately beginning to stir it, scraping the bottom of the pan occasionally, until firm. Set aside.

5. Add another Tbsp oil to pan and allow to heat. Add as much rice as will just about fit in a single layer (you may need to do this in a few batches) and fry for about five minutes, stirring often, until fragrant and a shade darker. Add more oil and allow it to heat up in between batches of rice.

Having patience during this step (neither crowding the pan nor under-frying the rice) is essential to the flavor and texture of the final dish!

6. Remove rice from pan. Add shallots, ginger, and garlic and cook for about 30 seconds until fragrant.

7. Add rice, chicken, and egg back into pan. Add vegetables and soy sauce mixture and continue to fry until the sauce has thickened and coated the rice, about five minutes.

8. Add white pepper, MSG, and scallions and mix to combine.

Serve hot. Leftovers will keep in the fridge for several days and may be re-fried or microwaved.

#fried rice #vegan #vegan recipe #Chinese #cooking #carrots #shallots #peas #rice #egg #chicken #gluten free #(without the chicken)

[flintox]

Summer-Vendor

It was a scorcher today. Probably the hottest day in years. The perfect day to sell some drinks. His sandals crunched as he walked across the beach, stopping occasionally to serve a drink from his cart and thanking the stars that his cart had a parasol on it. While the red panda made most of his cash on days like this one, you wouldn't think it, but walking around a beach on a hot day with a bunch of cold drinks was quite the lucrative business. Of course, there were other perks as well.

He stopped at a small red plastic border that stood out of the sand, separating the normal sized section of the beach from the micro sized section. The red panda stared down, seeing the array of tiny parasols and tiny towels littered about, all belonging to the various micros who stared up at him, some with confusion while most with clear, visible excitement. They knew why he was here. With a smile, he grabbed two bottles of ice cold water and a wide plastic bowl and prepared himself.

Carefully, he raised his foot and stepped inside the area, deftly finding the few spots on the micro beach that weren't swamped with beach guests. Taking careful, soft steps to not kick up sand onto any of the little ones as he made his way to the center of their area, noticing it was already vacated in anticipation for his arrival.

With utmost care, the red panda knelt down and put the bottles to the side. Using his hands, he dug a sizable hole in the center of the area. Around him, he could see various micros gather to watch. Occasionally he could hear someone ask the obvious question. Why is this macro here digging a hole? Only to get the answer 'You'll see.'

Once the hole was deep enough, the red panda placed the wide bowl into the hole. He grabbed one of the bottles and quickly popped it open, pouring the contents into the bowl before repeating the action with second bottle. "One ice cold pool, free of charge!" The red panda beamed.

An array of cheers sounded from the micros around him as the started rushing to the new means of cooling down. Within a few minutes the makeshift pool was swamped.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched. The price of the two water bottles and the bowl was around three dollars, but the joy of giving over a hundred micros the best beach day ever was priceless…

#sizetumblr #macrophilia #giant/tiny #macro/micro #furry anthro #macrofurry #story #beach #red panda #size

[vermillion-san]

elevate || chapter I

Pairing: Various x GN!Reader (Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 4.4K+ words

Synopsis: When (Y/n) (L/n) struggles to adjust into a prep school and the expectations of their stoic guardian, they find themselves graffitiing an abandoned subway; where their life would alternate into the exact opposite of what it initially was.

HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE 2018 FILM: Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse

Whenever morning comes, (Y/n) focuses on clearing their head; especially on a school day. Whether they were at their home or the dormitory of their new private school, they sought to distract themself from the responsibilities by doodling in their sketch book. And listening to music in the background was what put the cherry on top.

But oftentimes, the distraction does become an interference on their sense of time. As told by their guardians. “(Y/n)!” It took a good minute for the sixteen year-old to hear them, the AirPods that they were wearing to hear the music blocking their communication with the outside world (for as long as it could).

Realizing that they had to go to their school and settle themselves in the dormitory (a typical Monday), (Y/n) quickly gathers their art supplies, on the desk that they were leaning their sketch book on. “Crap..!” They then remember that they hadn’t even packed their luggage.

“(Y/n)! You should’ve left the house five minutes ago! Are you even ready?!”

(Y/n) slams open the empty luggage and shoves in a handful of clothes that they found, from each cabinet drawer that was apart of their dresser. “Of course! I’m on my way down!” They shove in all of the textbooks and notebooks -- that were left on their bed -- into their book bag, forcing it to fit in one ago. While doing so, they held their sketchbook by the spine, in between their teeth; they had intended to bring along the unfinished sketches that they were working on, since they wouldn’t come back to the house until the end of the week.

After packing both their luggage and book bag, (Y/n) dresses into their school uniform, tying the last knot of their tie before dragging along the two items with them, out of the bedroom and into the living room that was right next to it. “Where’s my laptop?” They begin to fulfill a scavenger hunt for the device, looking through the book shelf that was on their left, then the cushions of the couch that was across from it.

“If you want me to drive you, we gotta go now.” Their guardian, who goes by the name Levi Ackerman, hurries them. 

“No, thanks.” (Y/n) rejects the offer, as kindly as they could. “I can walk there myself.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” (Y/n) finds their laptop underneath a cushion and immediately take it out, pushing it into their book bag, despite it being overwhelming packed.

“Then you better go now!” Levi persists.

“In a minute!” (Y/n) now goes to the kitchen, wanting a serving of the oatmeal that was cooking on the stove. In the process, they nearly bump into their secondary guardian, Hange Zoe, who was about to take their leave while drinking black tea.

“Careful, (Y/n).” Hange couldn’t help but to aways find it amusing when (Y/n) had done their preparations last minute. They weren’t blind to read off the body language of the teenager that they had raised since they were an infant.

(Y/n) snatches a paper bowl from the kitchen cabinet, hurriedly serving themselves a good amount of oatmeal. When they were trying to find a plastic spoon, Levi addresses them in a more stern voice. “(Y/n)!”

“I’m already heading out!” (Y/n) rolls their eyes, locating the plastic spoon as they say this.

“That’s it.” Levi grabs them by the loop of their book bag, from behind. “I’m taking you there. You won’t get to the campus on time.” He begins to drag them to the main entrance of the apartment. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” (Y/n) struggles to free themselves from their guardian’s grip, close to spilling the bowl of oatmeal that was nearly burning their hands. “I didn’t get napkins! I need napkins!”

Minutes later, you would find the family of three outside the apartment complex, saying their farewells. While Levi was putting (Y/n)’s luggage inside the car, Hange was smothering the high-schooler in kisses that plaster ever corner of their face.

“Hange, stop...!” (Y/n) always found it embarrassing whenever Hange had done so in public.

“In a minute!” Hange ironically repeats (Y/n)’s own words, continuing to take advantage of them by portraying a series of affection; until eventually, they had allowed (Y/n) to head their merry way. “Call me once you get there! I’ll see you on Friday!”

“Yeah!” (Y/n) waves a farewell to them. “See you on Friday! Bye Hange!” They look over at where Levi’s car resided, their happy expression falling when they realize that it was his cop car. “Seriously...?” Driving around in the vehicle never brought pleasant experience, especially at school. “We have to take the cop car?”

“The family car’s being repaired.” Levi, dressed in his work uniform, opens the door of the driver’s seat. “Get in, you’re already behind schedule.” He earns a groan of frustration from (Y/n), but thinks nothing of it.

Despite the fact that they were already in the car, (Y/n) complained about his persistence on dropping them off; a habit that he always had since they started going to a new school, much farther than where their previous one was. “It would’ve been fine if I just walked there.”

Levi retorts with the actual reason at hand. “And what? Let you put up more of those graffiti stickers?” (Y/n) stiffens at the sudden confrontation. “It’s insanely obvious. Your art style says it all.”

(Y/n) attempts to laugh it off. “You sure you got the right criminal? Because, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve been taught to respect public property; and by who? None other than you and Hange.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Levi looks at them from the corner of their eye, since they’ve decided to sit at the backseat. “You’re peeling off all those stickers on Saturday, do you understand me? I better not see another one around this neighborhood.”

“Yeah, yeah...” (Y/n) sinks into the cushion of the leather seat, arms crossed over their chest. Their eyes wander out to the window next to them, the car driving by a big TV screen that was implemented at a subway station’s exterior railings. The news channel was playing for the civilians that were stopping by, each of them enraptured by the news of the city’s notorious hero: Spider-Man.

Levi hears the voice of the news reporter, thanks to the windows being rolled down prior. The second that the vigilante is mentioned, he talks sourly about him. “Honestly...the guy only zig-zags into the city, once a day, and zip-zap-zoops the bad guy with a bunch of sticky webs; in his little mask, and answers to no one, right?”

“Yeah, Levi.” (Y/n) never spared much thought about the hero, only when they were told about the accomplishments that the had made in his career by their friends (back at their old school). But unlike Levi, they had respected the sacrifices that he had made to protect the city, based on what they do learn about those accomplishments and fights. They can’t picture themself doing the same, had they been in the vigilante’s situation.

“And meanwhile my guys are out there, constantly, lives on the line, without masks.” Levi emphasizes, off in his same rants about the vigilante. “You know ridiculous the entire concept is? Relying on some person that supposedly has superhuman abilities? The thought of it is absurd.” (Y/n) rolls their eyes the second time that day, unimpressed by the same rhetorical questions that he was using.

It wasn’t until Levi pulled up to the front of the school, (Y/n) had asked him. “Why can’t I go back to my old school? Where I actually have friends?” 

Levi sighs. “We’ve already had this conversation, (Y/n). It’s already been a month, and I’m over it with the sulking, in all honesty--”

“I just don’t like coming here, okay?” (Y/n) is as honest as possible. “It’s too elite. I should be at a normal school, where I’m far more comfortable at.”

“It’s call adapting, (Y/n).” Levi looks directly at (Y/n) when he says this. “Whether or not the social environment is underwhelming or overwhelming doesn’t matter. It’s about being prepared for the real world. And this school offers that.”

(Y/n) thinks otherwise. “I’m only here because I won that stupid lottery.”

And Levi insists that what they were saying was true. “No. You passed the entry test, just like everyone else. You have to understand that this is an opportunity; there are people out there that would literally kill to be in your place.” (Y/n) simply looks the other way, their pout never faltering. “You honestly want to ruin that? You want end up like your uncle?”

“What’s wrong with Uncle Kenny?” (Y/n) says lowly, not having the heart to look at Levi in the eyes. “He’s not that bad a guy.”

Levi hesitates. “He made his choice. And, in life, we each make our choices--”

That’s when (Y/n) is encouraged to raise their voice. “Well it doesn’t feel like I have a choice!”

“You don’t!” The confirmation creates an awkward silence between Levi and (Y/n), each of them avoiding eye contact from one another. It lasts for several seconds. Levi was the one to break it by rephrasing his words. “You deserve better than what me and Hange have. I’ve always made that as my top priority. Since the day your parents..” He pauses. “Since we...” He changes his choice of words at the last minute. “--...first got you.”

(Y/n) can understand where Levi was coming from, but frustration still resided within them; they hate how their life had altered, how different they became because of it. -- From an extroverted and ambitious student, to a insecure and secluded student that struggle to make their mark in an extremely environment. Of course, they were too prideful to admit that to Levi himself, confident that he would just tell them to pull through.

“Yeah, okay...” (Y/n) opens the door and exits out of the police car, before retrieving their luggage from the passenger seat. They share eye contact with Levi again, in which enables their guardian to say their farewell. 

“I’m not doing this to bully you.” Levi says bluntly. “I’m doing it because I believe it’s what best for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” (Y/n) has heard the phrase before, not even the slightest bit impressed. “I’ll see you on Friday. Bye.” They close the door on Levi, turning their back to him so that they can walk to the school’s main entrance. They don’t even notice that Levi was portraying a sense of empathy for them; to (Y/n), he had always come across as a stoic man that showed little to no remorse for other people’s feelings, them included.

As (Y/n) had anticipated, the classes were overwhelming, no different from the first day that they had transferred into the school. They were running to each class, the piles of books and papers growing taller as they finish each class by the hour.

So much so that it has them arrive late to their Physics class ten minutes late. By the time (Y/n) had arrived, the class was watching a movie off the whiteboard, in a dark room that interfered with this vision to find an empty seat. Once they do find one, at the center of the room, they creep underneath the lights of the player, to avoid any needless confrontation by the teacher.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t play out so well.

“(L/n), moving in the dark.” The teacher even pauses the video. “You’re late again.”

(Y/n) subconsciously hides their face behind the books that they were carrying. “Einstein said...time was relative, right? Who’s to say I’m the one who’s late? Maybe all of you guys are early..?” It was no surprise to them that no one among the classroom laughed at the joke.

Until they heard one small fit of giggles, coming from a student, a girl, with shaggy black hair -- extending down to her chin -- that blended well in the dark, her pale skin doing the opposite. When she notices a few glances that are sent her way, she apologizes in advance, her humor dialed down. “Sorry. It was just...quiet.” A smile appears on (Y/n)’s face because of this, the first time that anyone here had actually relished their joke.

“Would you like to keep standing there, or...do you want to sit down?” Their satisfaction doesn’t last for long when the teacher resumes the movie. They take it upon themself to sit down, coincidently right next to the girl that, supposedly, was amused by their humor.

In between watching the movie, the girl says. “I liked your joke.”

(Y/n) perks up, their smile widening. “Really?”

“It wasn’t really funny. That's why I laughed. But...” She shrugs when she admits. “It was fun. I liked it.”

Now that (Y/n) had thought about it, this was the first that they’ve ever even see the girl in this classroom. “Are you a new student?” The teacher steps in between the two, shushing them both as she walks by. Seconds later, each of the two would steal glances at one another.

Rather than spending the night doing homework or studying for upcoming quizzes and exams, (Y/n) decides to spend the next few hours with the one person they had always served as a comfort to them in the times that were the most stressful: Their Uncle Kenny.

Luckily, where he lived wasn’t near where Levi and Hange were, so going there was nothing but easy. Naturally, they would get caught for sneaking out past curfew, but they could care less.

(Y/n) could always feel confident in being their true self around Kenny, something that was the opposite at both school and home. They trusted the man tremendously with what problems were going on, because, even if he was harsh like his nephew Levi, Kenny wasn’t one to be so judgmental; at least, not most of the time.

“Uncle Kenny!” (Y/n) climbs up the fire escape of his apartment, smearing their face against the tall doors of his balcony, the curtains wide open for the grown man to see. Such an act never seizes to fail Kenny in making him chuckle.

Kenny treats (Y/n) to dinner, leftovers that he had prior, and washes the dishes and eating utensils that were used; while (Y/n) punches his punching bag, like an amateur. “If your ass came all the way here, at a school night, then something must be up. What is it?”

(Y/n) scoffs, their gaze concentrated on punching bag. “Nothing! I just wanted to stop by, that’s all! Things are going well. Got tons of friends. Passing all my classes.”

Kenny knows (Y/n) well enough to determine that they were saying the opposite. “You don’t even make an effort to hide the truth. You’re definitely Levi’s kid.” He finishes washing the dishes and such, returning to where (Y/n) was punching the punching bag. “Smart kids is where it’s at; place must be full of them, no?”

The thought of it makes (Y/n) laugh. “No, there’s no one.” It all seemed so tiresome to even achieve a concept that is overrated by the media and their friends.

Yet Kenny persists. “Now, I can’t go on in life if the family lineage ends with you; just because you got no game.”

“I got game.” (Y/n) says defensively, keeping their distance from the punching bag so that they can follow Kenny to the living room. “I just don’t see the point in using it now. I’m only a sophomore.” The two sit on the couch together, side by side. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to tell me that I should be focusing on school instead?”

Kenny laughs again that night. “Levi would. But, to be perfectly honest, I can care less.”

The easygoing man somehow convinces (Y/n) then think more about their romantic life. “Well...there is this girl.” They lean against one of the arms of the couch, legs tucked in to their stomach as they retrieve their sketch book from the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny leans against his own side of couch. “What’s her name?”

“Funny you should ask.” (Y/n) strains out a few chuckles. “Because, well, I thought the same thing myself.” The response brings more amusement upon Kenny.

“Is that so?” Kenny chooses not to tease more about it. “Well, if you do decide to pursue her, use the shoulder touch.”

“Sorry, the what?”

“The shoulder touch. You kids don’t do that anymore?” The clueless look on (Y/n)’s face reinforces the question that Kenny had meant to be rhetorical. “Okay--” He doesn’t even hesitate to demonstrate. “When you see that girl tomorrow, walk up to her, and go--” He places a hand on one of (Y/n)’s shoulders before portraying a sly look. “Hey.”

(Y/n) struggles to take their uncle seriously, genuine cackles escaping their lips. They push aside the hand as they say, in between their laughter. “Of course we don’t do that anymore, you know how ridiculous that sounds? These days, we kids are more physical, especially when it comes to flirting.”

“I’m telling you, (Y/n), it’s science.” Kenny shrugs playfully. “Girls these days are too sensitive. Best not take any risks.”

“I never even said that I had a thing for her.” (Y/n) shakes their head out of disapproval. “I don’t even think she’s my type, Uncle Kenny.”

“You say that now, but who knows?”

The idea of love never falters from being too tedious in (Y/n)’s eyes. “Seeing how hard it takes for Hange and Levi to make their relationship work exhausts me.”

“The fact alone that Levi even has someone to tolerate someone is more exhausting to think about.” Kenny couldn't agree more, but his tone is more of a sarcastic one. “Poor Hange.”

“Poor Hange? What about me?” (Y/n) retorts, a scowl plastered on their face. “I’m the one that’s being a victim to his overprotectiveness...” They felt their phone vibrate from a pocket of their jacket and take out the device, reading a text that they had received from the man himself.

Done with that homework?

“Is that her?” Kenny assumes that the text itself was from the same girl that (Y/n) had mentioned in the minutes prior.

“No.” (Y/n) returns their phone into the pocket. “It was Levi. As always, he’s worrying about my studies.” They wear a gloomy look when they recall back to their conversation with their guardian, ashamed of themself for not being as firm as they should’ve been when trying to convince Levi to withdraw them from the school.

For the sake of Kenny, (Y/n) decides to leave now, before it becomes a venting session. “I should probably just go.” They gather the belongings that they brought with them to the apartment. “I got a paper to submit tonight.” Right before they close their sketchbook, Kenny caught a glimpse of what they were working on (when they were talking with him).

Hence the reason why Kenny snatches the sketchbook from their lap and examines the drawing up close. “You and your sketches...” He conveys astonishment. “Have you put these up yet?” Another thing that made him great, to (Y/n), was how he was the only one to fully appreciate their hobby.

“Of course not.” (Y/n) sheepishly rubs the back of their neck. “You know Levi would find out. Someway, somehow. I can’t.”

All the more reason to then encourage Kenny to do what he had already planned out in this meeting. “Follow me.” He heads his way to the fire escape, gesturing (Y/n) to accompany him.

As much as (Y/n) wanted to refuse the offer, and be the mature one of the duo, they wouldn’t dare go back to the dorm that restrained them of any fun.

The designated area was secluded from the interconnecting railways of the city’s subway. Kenny casually walks into the tunnel that would draw them away from the public, while (Y/n) was cautious of where they were walking into, unfamiliar with the surroundings, but well aware that being present could get them in trouble.

“If we get caught...”

Kenny spared little to no thoughts about the consequences, not the unusual. “We run for our asses so that we don’t get caught.”

(Y/n) deadpans, refusing to believe that the man was in his mid-50′s and still kicking at life’s obstacles. ‘Normally, most people his age would be burnt out...’

Eventually, the two locate a station that was completely abandoned, secured by tall fences that were meant to keep trespassers away. 

“Where did you even find this place?” (Y/n) asks.

“Did an engineering job down here.” Kenny replies with ease, before climbing up the fence and performing a backflip over it. In just the blink of an eye, he was at the other side, exchanging a taunting expression at (Y/n).

It was easy for (Y/n) to climb up to the top, but lifting their dominant leg over the other side was the challenging part. They grit their teeth tightly to resist the urge to back out now, persistent on impressing their Uncle, who they can see is staring at them dead in the eye.

Fortunately for them, they got over, but they fell off the fence in the process, their face planting down to the dirty pavement, right in front of Kenny. They attempt to salvage the accomplishment they made by immediately getting back up, and ignoring the dirt that smudges their face. “The walk over here took a toll out of me.”

Kenny obnoxiously rolls his eyes and walks ahead. “Let’s go.”

The two are now standing at the center of a spacious room that contained wall to wall of graffiti, all but one that was untouched. “You know what to do.” Kenny tosses (Y/n) the first can of spray paint that he found in his personal bag, in which they catch on the spot.

Before (Y/n) knew it, they became invested in painting that bare wall, from top to bottom; overlapping certain colors, outlining the font of the letters that they had intended to spell out, and emphasizing the neon colors of the spray paint that they had sought to have stand out amongst the rest of the graffitis.

As this happens, a spider was stringing themself into the scene, its appearance not the same as any usual kind of spider; its movements were made unaware to (Y/n) and Kenny.

It all came so naturally to (Y/n), their confidence growing back on them for that moment alone; where they never thought about the expectations of others, or get nervous about the possibilities of failing. -- This feeling of freedom was a given to them, and they owe it to their Uncle Kenny for offering such an opportunity.

Looking at how the graffiti came out to be aids (Y/n) to reaffirm their desire in independence. The silhouette that stands in the middle of the word “expectations” was a reflection of what exactly they were going through, and Kenny could see it right through them; his depiction of (Y/n)’s potential never faltered, whether it was art, or simply life in general.

“Do you think it’s too cliche?” (Y/n) can’t help but to depict some kind of flaw, limiting themself from becoming egotistical.

“Hell if I know.” Kenny doesn’t wish to criticize on something that’s not his forte. And the response humors (Y/n).

Kenny hesitates to then mention. “You know Levi use to do this kind of stuff?”

(Y/n) expects a punchline. “Oh really?”

“I’m serious.” Kenny reaffirms. “I wasn’t at my best when I tried to do the uncle thing with him. I never really spent much time with him, despite the fact that I had took him in, after his mom died; because of this, he felt the need to find excuses to grab attention. At least, that’s what I think.”

“What kind of excuses?”

“Grafitti, shoplifting, etc...” Kenny doesn’t intend to go much into it, not pleased with how the past went down. “He didn’t start off on the right foot. And I was responsible for that, I won’t lie. If anything, it was because of him that I realized my mistakes; and for that, I’m grateful that he even lets me spend time with you.” (Y/n) wanders their eyes to the floor, attempting to process his words. “With you, I can at least redeem some aspects of my mistakes.”

“You made mistakes?” (Y/n) found it ironic. “That’s rich.”

Kenny sees why that was. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up smartalec.” But he prioritizes the point that he was trying to make. “Just try to understand Levi a bit more; he’s a pain in the ass, but he means well. You should know that, better than everyone else. Hange does.”

“Hange’s different.” (Y/n) says otherwise. “They’re no different from Levi, when you really look at it. That’s what makes their relationship both wholesome...and intact.”

“But that shouldn't mean you can’t do the same thing.” Kenny tries to have (Y/n) think more positively. “Make an effort. I’m sure he’ll hear you out, from beginning to end.”

(Y/n) doubts that outcome from ever happening. In the attempts prior, it had always been the same: In which Levi would never let them get the last sentence, nor finish it for the matter. “Sure.”

The faint ringtone of Kenny’s phone is heard by both Kenny and (Y/n). One glance at what message he had received, and Kenny says. “Okay, we better head on out; I got things to do.” The grown man as already exiting out of the room, while (Y/n) was packing the spray paint in their book bag.

But before they followed Kenny out, (Y/n) wanted to take a quick picture of their graffiti; for they were sure that they would never come back to this room again. They hold out the phone at the graffiti, snapping a few pictures on the spot once the lighting and angle was just right.

At the last minute, the spider that had came from the outside world (and snuck their way in the abandoned subway station) crawls out of the sleeve of (Y/n)’s jacket, and onto the upper hand of (Y/n)’s extended arm. Just as a gasp escapes their lip, the spider bites onto the hand, its bite injecting spider genetics into the blood cells of the teenager.

“(Y/n), let’s go.” (Y/n) reacts accordingly to the creature that had dared to harm them, slapping it to death with one go (using their free hand). After doing so, they leave the room and catch up to Kenny in seconds.

The lights go off and the corpse of the spider was left behind, with neither of the two visitors realizing that it was a radioactive one that had just transferred spider genetics to its victim.

It was only a matter of time until the aftereffects would come about.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #various x reader #gender neautral reader #spider verse au #levi ackerman #kenny ackerman #hange zöe #mikasa ackerman #aot x gn!reader #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you

[greekcookingmadeeasy]

Black Forest Gateau (cake)

🎂

Black Forest Gâteau (cake)

BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy                          

SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy

Check My YouTube Video: HERE

Κοιτάξτε Επίσης Την Συνταγή Μου Σε YouTube Βίντεο, Το Λίνκ Είναι: ΕΔΩ

SERVES  🍴⃒     PREP. TIME 🕔⃒  

14-16 slices        60 min. + 1 day and 3 h wait       

COOK. TIME ♨   DIFFIC. LEVEL 👩‍🍳⃒

     30 min.                   Medium

As you probably know, I don't often post non-Greek recipes; this time I will make an exception, since Black Forest Gâteau has always been one of my most favorite cakes. Not only that but I have been preparing it for many-many years, hence this recipe has been tried and tested several times!

Black Forest Gâteau is a German chocolate and cream cake with a rich cherry filling.

Traditionally, it consists of several layers of chocolate sponge cake dampened with Kirschwasser (a clear liqueur made from sour cherries), sandwiched with whipped cream and cherries. It is decorated with additional whipped cream, (maraschino) cherries, and chocolate shavings. A classic, beloved Dessert that can be prepared anytime of the year for any celebration e.g. birthday, anniversary etc.

Do try my recipe for Black Forest Gâteau, it's a real keeper.

Suitable for lacto-ovo vegetarians.       

INGREDIENTS

Ingredients for the chocolate sponge cake:

·      120 gr. / 4.2 oz / 1 cup Self-rising Flour, sifted

·      5 large Eggs at room temperature

·      220 gr. / 7.8 oz / 1 cup Sugar

·      30 gr. / 1 oz or 1/3 cup Cocoa Powder, sifted

·      8 gr. / 0.3 oz / 2 tsp. Vanilla Sugar

·      ½ tsp. Salt

Ingredients for the whipped cream:

·      1 lt. / 4 cups chilled Heavy Cream (whipping cream, double cream)

·      1/2 cup / 80 gr. / 2.8 oz Powder Sugar (icing)

Ingredients for garnishing:

·      About 2 cups / 350 gr. / 12.3 oz Cherries, canned, pitted and strained

·      About 1 cup / 250 ml Cherry Juice (from the same can)

·      1 Shot / 25-30 ml Kirsch Liqueur (Kirschwasser, altern: Vodka)

·      100 gr. / 3.5 oz pure Chocolate flakes (shavings)

METHOD:

A.    Start by preparing the chocolate sponge cake (the day before):

1.     Note: I always make my sponge cake layers smaller so the result is an impressive tall cake!

2.     Crack the eggs and place them in the bowl of a strong electric mixer.

3.     Beat them in high speed for 5' or until they become white and fluffy, adding the sugar, vanilla and salt. 

4.     After about 5' the egg mixture should be ready! Stop the mixer.

5.     Scatter gradually the sifted flour spoon by spoon and the cocoa into the egg mix, blending it gently and slowly in with a spoon or spatula. You don't want the cake dough to deflate!

6.     Bring 2 round spring forms (with side opening) of 20 cm / 8 in, their bottoms lined with parchment paper. Brush or spray their sides with oil.

7.     Empty the chocolate sponge cake dough equally into the forms. It is now ready to be baked.

 

B.    Baking instructions:

8.     Place both forms on the middle shelf of a preheated oven, top / bottom heat elements on = @ 180℃ / 350℉, and bake for about 30' (depends on the oven).

9.     After 30', test if the cakes are baked through by inserting a long toothpick into them. It needs to come out clean!

10.  Next, place the forms on the kitchen bench so that the cakes cool down completely.

11.  Then remove the forms from around the cakes. The cakes should look fluffy and light. Reserve them with their parchment paper and store them in the fridge the one on top of the other in a plastic bag, until the next day.

12.  Tip: You could prepare the sponge cake ahead of time, and store it in a plastic bag either in the fridge for 1 week or in the freezer for 1 month.

 

C.     Prepare ahead the whipped cream (same day of serving):

13.  Pour the chilled heavy cream in the bowl of a strong electric mixer (with the whisk attachment). Start blending at low speed and increase to medium-high.

14.  Continue beating for about 15'-20' until you see the cream increasing in volume by nearly double. Slowly and gradually the fluid cream will progress into a firmer cream.

15.  At the last 10', add the powder sugar and continue beating until the mixture has tight swirl marks and stiff peaks; enough to ice a cake with this texture.

16.  Important Note: Don’t overbeat it or your cream will start turning into butter instead!

17.  Stop the mixer and store the whipped cream covered in the fridge for 3 hours to chill.

 

D.    Assembly time and garnishing (after 3 h):

18.  Separate 8-10 of the strained, pitted cherries, placing them on an absorbent kitchen paper and pat dry them. These will be used for the top garnishing. Set aside.

19.  Tip: If in season you can use fresh cherries for garnishing (or maraschino).

20.  Blend the Kirsch liqueur with the cherry juice.

21.  Bring sponge cakes from the fridge.

22.  With a sharp, large knife cut both sponge cakes horizontally in half. They are easier to cut chilled from the fridge. Fyi we will make 4 layers.

23.  Place the 1st layer of sponge cake on a nice, round platter (flat side facing up). 

24.  Bring the whipped cream from the fridge. You will need to use 1/5 of the cream between the 3 layers and 2/5 for garnishing on top of the 4th layer (top of) the cake and sides.

25.  With a ladle, pour 1/4 of the syrup on top and all around the bottom cake layer.

26.  Spread about 1/3 of your cherries on top but avoid to place them near the edges!

27.  Next spread 1/5 of the whipped cream around the top of the cake layer and level its surface as much as possible.

28.  Continue by placing the next cake layer on top.

29.  Repeat the procedure two more times by alternating 1/4 of syrup, 1/3 of cherries, 1/5 of cream.

30.  Place the last cake (flat face up!) and drizzle the rest of syrup on top.

31.  Next, put 2 heaps from the whipped cream into a piping bag (to garnish the cake).

32.  Add the remaining of the whipped cream on top of the cake. With a spatula, spread it to cover the top and sides of the cake, straightening it.

33.  Decorate the sides of the cake by sticking chocolate flakes on the whipped cream.

34.  With your piping bag make beautiful whipped cream "flowers" on top of the cake.

35.  Place the reserved dried cherries in the middle of each flower.

36.  Continue garnishing the sides of the cake if you have more cream in your piping bag.

37.  Black Forest Gateau is ready!

38.  Chill it in the fridge for at least 3 hours before serving! It will stay fresh for a couple of days.

E. Serving suggestion:

A classic, timeless Cake, light, perfectly moist, with sweet and sour undertones from the cherries which combine so beautifully with the chocolate flakes and the subtle hint of liqueur!!

Have a look also at the inside of the cake 😋😮!

The best dessert after a great, celebratory dinner!

For example, I served it for my Daughter Melissa's birthday with: Cypriot Afelia and Pourgouri, Hummus with Avocado, Fava, Lettuce Salad, Olive Bread, Pasta Flora and red Wine.

Every bite is a celebration for your taste buds. Enjoy!!  

F. More info and history of Black Forest Gateau:

In 1915, a pastry chef named Josef Keller is said to have made the first Black Forest cake in his prominent Café Agner in Bad Godesberg, now a suburb of Bonn about 500 km (310 mi) north of the Black Forest. This claim, however, has never been substantiated.

Some historians say that the cake actually dates back to the 1500s, when chocolate first became available in Europe. More specifically, its birthplace would have been the Black Forest region of Germany, which is known for its cherry trees, sour cherries and kirschwasser liqueur.

According to gypsy beliefs, the colors of the cake (black, red, white) were associated with the traditional costume of the inhabitants of the Black Forest.

Its German name is Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte and to qualify as an authentic German cake, it must include the Kirsch liqueur!

With excerpts from Wikipedia

 Looking for more of my Ideas-Recipes with Cherries? Find them all HERE

Check my YouTube Video: HERE

Τούρτα Black Forest

BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy                          

SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/greekcookingmadeeasy

 

ΜΕΡΙΔΕΣ🍴⃒   ΠΡΟΕΤΟΙΜΑΣΙΑ 🕔⃒

14-16             60 min. + 1 μέρα και 3 h αναμονή       

ΜΑΓΕΙΡΕΜΑ ♨  ΒΑΘΜ. ΔΥΣΚΟΛΙΑΣ 👩‍🍳⃒

    30 min.                   Μέτρια

Όπως πιθανόν γνωρίζετε, δεν ποστάρω συχνά μη ελληνικές συνταγές. Αυτή τη φορά όμως θα κάνω εξαίρεση, αφού η τούρτα Black Forest ήταν πάντα ένα από τα πιο αγαπημένα μου γλυκά. Και όχι μόνο αυτό, αλλά την φτιάχνω εδώ και πολλά χρόνια, γι' αυτό και αυτή η συνταγή έχει τεσταριστεί και δοκιμαστεί αρκετές φορές!

Το Black Forest Gâteau είναι ένα γερμανικό κέικ σοκολάτας και κρέμας σαντιγύ με πλούσια γέμιση από κεράσια.

Παραδοσιακά, αποτελείται από πολλές στρώσεις σοκολατένιο παντεσπάνι ποτισμένο με Kirschwasser (ένα διαυγές λικέρ φτιαγμένο από βύσσινα), στρωμένο με σαντιγί και κεράσια. Είναι διακοσμημένο με επιπλέον σαντιγί, κεράσια (μαρασκίνο) και νιφάδες σοκολάτας. Ένα κλασικό, αγαπημένο επιδόρπιο που μπορεί να ετοιμαστεί οποιαδήποτε στιγμή του χρόνου για οποιαδήποτε γιορτή π.χ. γενέθλια, επέτειο κ.λπ.

Δοκιμάστε τη συνταγή μου για Black Forest Gâteau, αξίζει πραγματικά.

Κατάλληλη για χορτοφάγους.

 

ΥΛΙΚΑ

Υλικά για το σοκολατένιο παντεσπάνι:

• 120 γρ. / 4,2 oz / 1 φλ. Αλεύρι που φουσκώνει μόνο του, κοσκινισμένο

• 5 μεγάλα Αυγά σε θερμοκρασία δωματίου

• 220 γρ. / 7,8 oz / 1 φλ. Ζάχαρη

• 30 γρ. / 1 oz ή 1/3 φλ. Κακάο σκόνη, κοσκινισμένο

• 8 γρ. / 0,3 oz / 2 κ.γ. Βανίλια σκόνη (βανιλίνη)

• ½ κ.γ. Αλάτι

Υλικά για τη σαντιγί:

• 1 lt. / 4 φλ. πολύ κρύα Κρέμα γάλακτος (ζαχαροπλαστικής)

• 1/2 φλ. / 80 γρ. / 2,8 oz Ζάχαρη άχνη

Υλικά για το γαρνίρισμα:

• Περίπου 2 φλ. / 350 γρ. / 12,3 oz Κεράσια κονσέρβας, χωρίς κουκούτσι και στραγγισμένα

• Περίπου 1 φλ. / 250 ml χυμός Κεράσι (από την ίδια κονσέρβα)

• 1 σφηνάκι / 25-30 ml λικέρ Kirsch (Kirschwasser, εναλλακτικά: Βότκα)

• 100 γρ. / 3,5 oz Κουβερτούρα σοκολάτα σε νιφάδες

ΜΕΘΟΔΟΣ:

Α. Ξεκινήστε ετοιμάζοντας το σοκολατένιο παντεσπάνι (την προηγούμενη μέρα):

1. Σημείωση: Εγώ πάντα κάνω τις στρώσεις για το παντεσπάνι μικρότερες οπότε το αποτέλεσμα είναι μια εντυπωσιακή ψηλή Τούρτα!

2. Σπάστε τα αυγά και τοποθετήστε τα στο μπολ ενός δυνατού ηλεκτρικού μίξερ.

3. Χτυπήστε σε δυνατή ταχύτητα για 5' ή μέχρι να ασπρίσουν και να αφρατέψουν προσθέτοντας τη ζάχαρη, τη βανίλια και το αλάτι.

4. Μετά από 5' περίπου το μείγμα των αυγών πρέπει να είναι έτοιμο! Σταματήστε το μίξερ.

5. Ρίξτε σταδιακά το κοσκινισμένο αλεύρι κουταλιά κουταλιά και το κακάο στο μείγμα των αυγών, ανακατεύοντάς τα απαλά και σιγά σιγά με ένα κουτάλι ή μια σπάτουλα. Δεν θέλετε να ξεφουσκώσει η ζύμη!

6. Φέρτε 2 στρογγυλές φόρμες με ελατήριο (με πλευρικό άνοιγμα-τσέρκι) των 20 εκ. / 8 ίντσες, με το πάτο τους στρωμένο με λαδόκολλα. Αλείψτε ή ψεκάστε τα πλαϊνά τους με λίγο λάδι.

7. Αδειάστε τη ζύμη για το παντεσπάνι σοκολάτας εξίσου στις 2 φόρμες. Τώρα είναι έτοιμο για ψήσιμο.

 

Β. Οδηγίες ψησίματος:

8. Τοποθετήστε και τις δύο φόρμες μαζί στο μεσαίο ράφι ενός προθερμασμένου φούρνου, στις πάνω/κάτω αντιστάσεις = @ 180℃ / 350℉, και ψήστε για περίπου 30' (εξαρτάται από τον φούρνο).

9. Μετά από 30', δοκιμάστε αν έχουν ψηθεί τα κέικ (παντεσπάνια), βάζοντας μέσα μια μακριά οδοντογλυφίδα. Πρέπει να βγει καθαρή!

10. Στη συνέχεια, βάλτε τις φόρμες στον πάγκο της κουζίνας, ώστε τα κέικ να κρυώσουν εντελώς.

11. Κατόπιν αφαιρέστε τις φόρμες γύρω από τα κέικ, που πρέπει να φαίνονται αφράτα, φουσκωτά και ανάλαφρα. Κρατήστε τα με τη λαδόκολλα τους και φυλάξτε τα στο ψυγείο το ένα πάνω στο άλλο σε πλαστική σακούλα, μέχρι την επόμενη μέρα.

12. Συμβουλή: Θα μπορούσατε να ετοιμάσετε το παντεσπάνι από πριν, και να το φυλάξετε σε πλαστική σακούλα είτε στο ψυγείο για 1 εβδομάδα ή στην κατάψυξη για 1 μήνα.

 

Γ. Ετοιμάστε τη σαντιγί (την ίδια μέρα του σερβιρίσματος):

13. Ρίξτε την πολύ κρύα κρέμα στο μπολ ενός δυνατού ηλεκτρικού μίξερ (με το εξάρτημα σύρμα). Ξεκινήστε να χτυπάτε σε χαμηλή ταχύτητα και αυξήστε τη σε μέτρια-ψηλή.

14. Συνεχίστε το χτύπημα για περίπου 15'-20' μέχρι να δείτε την κρέμα να αυξάνεται σε σχεδόν διπλάσιο όγκο. Σιγά-σιγά και σταδιακά η ρευστή κρέμα θα εξελιχθεί σε πιο σφιχτή κρέμα.

15. Στα τελευταία 10' προσθέστε τη ζάχαρη άχνη και συνεχίστε το χτύπημα μέχρι το μείγμα να έχει στροβίλους και σφιχτές κορφούλες, δηλ. με υφή όσο χρειάζεται για να μπορείτε να διακοσμήσετε μια τούρτα.

16. Σημαντική σημείωση: Μην παραχτυπήσετε τη κρέμα γιατί θα αρχίσει να μετατρέπεται σε βούτυρο!

17. Σταματήστε το μίξερ και αφήστε τη σαντιγί σκεπασμένη στο ψυγείο για 3 ώρες να παγώσει καλά.

 

Δ. Χρόνος συναρμολόγησης και γαρνίρισμα (μετά από 3 ώρες):

18. Ξεχωρίστε 8-10 από τα στραγγισμένα κεράσια, βάλτε τα μέσα σε απορροφητικό χαρτί κουζίνας και στεγνώστε τα καλά πατώντας τα ελαφρά. Αυτά θα χρησιμοποιηθούν για το γαρνίρισμα. Αφήστε τα στην άκρη.

19. Συμβουλή: Αν είναι η εποχή τους, μπορείτε να χρησιμοποιήσετε φρέσκα κεράσια για το γαρνίρισμα (ή μαρασκίνο).

20. Ανακατέψτε το λικέρ Kirsch με το χυμό κερασιού.

21. Φέρτε τα δύο παντεσπάνια από το ψυγείο.

22. Με ένα κοφτερό, μεγάλο μαχαίρι κόψτε και τα δύο παντεσπάνια οριζόντια στη μέση. Κόβονται ευκολότερα κρύα από το ψυγείο. Λάβετε υπόψη ότι θα κάνουμε 4 στρώσεις.

23. Τοποθετήστε την 1η στρώση παντεσπάνι σε μια ωραία, στρογγυλή πιατέλα (ίσια πλευρά προς τα πάνω).

24. Βγάλτε τη κρέμα σαντιγί από το ψυγείο. Θα χρειαστεί να χρησιμοποιήσετε το 1/5 της ανάμεσα στις 3 στρώσεις και τα 2/5 για το γαρνίρισμα πάνω από την 4η στρώση δηλ. στη κορυφή της τούρτας και στα πλαϊνά της.

25. Με μια κουτάλα περιχύστε το 1/4 του σιροπιού γύρω γύρω στο παντεσπάνι-βάση (κάτω στρώση).

26. Απλώστε περίπου το 1/3 από τα κεράσια σας από πάνω αλλά αποφύγετε να τα τοποθετήσετε κοντά στις άκρες!

27. Στη συνέχεια απλώστε το 1/5 της σαντιγί από πάνω και ισιώστε την επιφάνειά της όσο περισσότερο γίνεται.

28. Συνεχίστε βάζοντας από πάνω την επόμενη στρώση από παντεσπάνι.

29. Επαναλάβετε τη διαδικασία άλλες δύο φορές εναλλάσσοντας 1/4 σιρόπι, 1/3 κεράσια, 1/5 σαντιγύ.

30. Τοποθετήστε τη τελευταία στρώση (επίπεδη όψη προς τα πάνω!) και περιχύστε από πάνω το υπόλοιπο σιρόπι.

31. Στη συνέχεια, βάλτε 2 μεγάλες κουταλιές από τη σαντιγί μέσα σε ένα κορνέ (για να γαρνίρετε τη τούρτα).

32. Προσθέστε την υπόλοιπη σαντιγί πάνω από τη τούρτα. Με μια σπάτουλα απλώστε τη να καλύψει το πάνω μέρος και τα πλαϊνά της τούρτας, ισιώνοντάς την.

33. Διακοσμήστε τα πλαϊνά της τούρτας κολλώντας νιφάδες σοκολάτας πάνω στη σαντιγί.

34. Με το κορνέ σας φτιάξτε όμορφα «λουλούδια» από σαντιγί πάνω από τη τούρτα.

35. Τοποθετήστε τα κρατημένα στεγνά κεράσια στη μέση κάθε λουλουδιού.

36. Συνεχίστε να γαρνίρετε τα πλαϊνά του κέικ αν έχετε επιπλέον κρέμα στη σακούλα κορνέ σας.

37. Η Τούρτα Black Forest είναι έτοιμη!

38. Βάλτε τη στο ψυγείο για τουλάχιστον 3 ώρες πριν τη σερβίρετε! Θα μείνει φρέσκια για 2-3 μέρες.

 

Ε. Πρόταση σερβιρίσματος:

Ένα κλασικό, διαχρονικό γλυκό, ελαφρύ, τόσο ζουμερό, με γλυκόξινες πινελιές από τα κεράσια που συνδυάζονται τόσο όμορφα με τις νιφάδες σοκολάτας και τη διακριτική νότα του λικέρ!!

Ρίξτε μια ματιά και στο εσωτερικό της τούρτας 😋😮!

Το καλύτερο επιδόρπιο μετά από ένα υπέροχο, γιορταστικό δείπνο!

Για παράδειγμα, τη σέρβιρα για τα γενέθλια της κόρης μου Μελίσας με: Κυπριακά Αφέλια και Πουργούρι, Χούμους με Αβοκάντο, Φάβα, Μαρουλοσαλάτα, Ελιόψωμο, Πάστα Φλόρα και κόκκινο κρασί.

Κάθε μπουκιά είναι μια γιορτή για τους γευστικούς σας κάλυκες. Απολαύστε!!

Ζ. Περισσότερες πληροφορίες και ιστορία του Black Forest Gateau:

Το 1915, ένας ζαχαροπλάστης ονόματι Josef Keller λέγεται ότι έφτιαξε την πρώτη τούρτα Black Forest στο διάσημο Café Agner του Bad Godesberg, τώρα ένα προάστιο της Βόννης, περίπου 500 χλμ. (310 μίλια) βόρεια του Μέλανα Δρυμού. Αυτός ο ισχυρισμός, ωστόσο, δεν τεκμηριώθηκε ποτέ.

Μερικοί ιστορικοί λένε ότι το κέικ χρονολογείται από το 1500, όταν η σοκολάτα πρωτοκυκλοφόρησε στην Ευρώπη. Πιο συγκεκριμένα, η γενέτειρά του θα ήταν η περιοχή του Μέλανα Δρυμού της Γερμανίας, η οποία είναι γνωστή για τις κερασιές, τις βυσσινιές και το λικέρ kirschwasser.

Σύμφωνα με τις τσιγγάνικές πεποιθήσεις, τα χρώματα της τούρτας (μαύρο, κόκκινο, λευκό) συνδέονταν με την παραδοσιακή φορεσιά των κατοίκων του Μέλανα Δρυμού.

Το γερμανικό του όνομα είναι Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte και για να χαρακτηριστεί αυθεντικό γερμανικό κέικ, πρέπει να περιλαμβάνει το λικέρ Kirsch!

Με αποσπάσματα από τη Βικιπαίδεια

 Ψάχνετε κι άλλες από τις Ιδέες-Συνταγές μου με Κεράσια? Δείτε τις όλες ΕΔΩ

Κοιτάξτε επίσης την συνταγή μου σε YouTube βίντεο, το λίνκ είναι: ΕΔΩ

#vegetarian #children #party #pastry #desserts #black forest cake #black forest gateau #fruit #syrupy #cake #celebrations #region #foreign #black forest τουρτα #τουρτα black forest #τούρτα #τούρτα black forest #chocolate #chocolate cake #cherries #Youtube

[donteatthefishtacos]

Star

Day 9 - @12daysofhatchetfield

Paulkins

This was a place Emma never expected to be.

Being settled in Hatchetfield was part of it, sure, but the more remarkable part of the whole thing to her was the settled part.

Married with a steady career, a house and two cats, the whole shebang.

If she were ever asked, though, Emma would say the most unbelievable part of it all was him. Paul.

Paul had been the completely average customer she saw day in and day out at Beanie’s. A few times a week he would stumble through a conversation with her that left her smiling once he eventually left with a black coffee in his hand.

Until one day when he mentioned hating musicals. Even beyond that, the guy had an itemized list of the reasons he felt that way.

The information had shifted her perception of him, her world tilted a little more to one side on its axis.

Her break was coming up, or so she told him at least, so she sat with him at a table for fifteen minutes and talked while Zoey handled the growing line. Once their individual breaks were up, he went on his way with a refill of the coffee, and her phone number scribbled sneakily on the sleeve.

And now a few years later, here they were. They’d been married for a year and a half, had a working relationship with Tim and Tom, the only family of hers that was left.

She graduated from the community college, and had a new job managing a flower shop downtown. Still the shitty customer service deal but at least all their customers weren’t in caffeine withdrawal when they walked in the door.

“Em?,” his voice called gently from the kitchen. She glanced over in his direction to find him with a bottle of beer in each hand. “Do you want another?”

They were deep in decorating for the holidays. The contents of several plastic tubs from the garage had successfully vomited all over their small living room. And Emma had apparently chosen that year to add popcorn strings to their tree decor, so she sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a string attached to a needle while Paul handled the ornaments. He had a system, always placing them just so on the branches.

He watched her patiently as she let her brain catch up with the question. Clear blue staring out at her just as in wonder as they were that day they first really talked over shitty Beanie’s coffee.

Eventually she smiled, “Yeah,” a smile quirked up on one side of his mouth in response. “Hit me with it, big guy.”

When she took it he scooted carefully by her and scooped up a handful of the popcorn from the bowl. “Hey,” she called after him indignantly while he simply smiled at her around the mouthful. “You better watch it, motherfucker.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he wandered back over to the tree to inspect his work. “But in other news I think the ornaments are all set.”

Emma glanced down at the popcorn string spread over her legs. The whole thing was nearly filled up. Good enough.

“Sweet,” she responded before she took her own handful of popcorn and shifted the bowl to her side on the couch so she could stand. “So’s the popcorn.”

She spent a few minutes getting the string hung just right and when she finally stepped back, Paul was right behind her with the star topper in his hand. The star had been Jane’s, Tom had offered it to her the previous year, a peace offering of sorts.

He smiled at her, and her heart still managed to speed up a bit in her chest, even now that she was years down the line with him.

Average and normal as he had seemed to be before she really knew him, he still managed to surprise her. Take, for instance, the day a few weeks before when he had asked her completely offhandedly if she ever thought about having kids.

“With me,” he had rushed to clarify in the moment. They were on a stroll through Oakley Park while the trees still had colorful leaves to drop. His slightly panicked addition to his question had served to relieve the pounding of her heart, and he had gone on to assure her to take her time, and that the decision was completely hers.

It had been running in the background of her mind ever since then. Especially because she had thought about it, but until he asked she had never seriously considered it, it was a much more nebulous possibility to her up til then.

A ‘what if?’ more than anything.

She watched in the dim light of the tree in the otherwise dark room as Paul reached up to place the star at the top of the tree. For whatever reason, the scene in front of her shifted just slightly, and she saw Paul holding a giggling toddler in reindeer footie pajamas up to put the star in place instead.

Emma blinked, and it was gone. Paul bit down on his lip as he adjusted the star, the clear glass reflected the multi colored lights they had hung together a couple of hours earlier.

He glanced over at her once he was sure the star was secure, completely oblivious to the thoughts running through her head. Though he must have seen something in her expression because he furrowed his brow. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Emma gave him a small smile, her heart hammered against her ribs and she took a long swig of the beer in her hand. When she met his eyes again he was still watching her, a bit of nervous apprehension clear in his face that had never been able to hide his thoughts.

She took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Let’s have a baby.”

#12 days of hatchetfield #Paulkins #hatchetfield #fanfic

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Losing Control - Operation Valkyrie (Part 3)

MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2

Alrighty here we go again! I had a lot of fun writing this one! Hope you enjoy.

CWs: female whumpee (not sexual), Central Venous Line, dehumanisation, mentions of noncon laser tattoo brand, it/it's pronouns used to dehumanise, restraints, loss of bodily control, sedation, needle/syringe

When Valkyrie next awoke, she found herself back in her cell-like room, laying down on the small bed against the wall. She bolted upright, panic suddenly flowing through her as she became aware that she had no idea how she had got back to the cell. They carried me in here while I was unconscious. The image of the guards carrying her limp body through the stark white halls sent a shiver down her spine. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a dull pang in her neck. She reached up to find a foreign object bulging on the right side of her neck. Confused, she slipped off the bed and padded on bare feet over to the sink, and angled herself over the metal faucet. Its surface was crystal clear, and she gazed into her reflection. Bruises and cuts, bandaged with butterfly stitches, peppered her forehead, chin and cheeks. Dark grey circles marred her eyes. And there, on the side of her neck, was the object she had felt. It was a small blue object on her skin, attached to tubing, and the whole contraption was taped down with clear medical tape. The other end of the tube was led to multiple smaller tubes, all of which were capped off and not presently attached to anything else. Just staring at it made her skin crawl. She pulled back from the sink and curled up on the bed. As she slipped her arms around her bent knees, her forearm brushed against her the thin, scratchy material of her pants. She flinched and brought her forearm close to inspect it. There was a thin bandage protecting the skin, but she didn’t need to see the skin to know what was underneath the bandage. The brand was burned into her mind just as much as it was burned into her skin. Her fingers itched to peel back the bandage, to get the mark off her skin, but she bit her lip to distract herself from the thought. Suddenly, a creaking sound drew her attention to the door. A small opening at the bottom of the door was revealed, allowing a tray to be pushed through into the room. The cut-out swung shut with a reverberating clang. Valkyrie jumped to her feet and raced over to the tray. When she spotted a plastic bowl filled with a mushy, oatmeal-like slop and a plastic cup of water, her stomach growled loudly. It must have been some time since she last ate, and she hadn’t even realised how hungry she was until now. She snatched up the spoon from the tray and shovelled the slop down her throat. It was unpleasantly warm - she wasn’t even sure whether it was supposed to be served hot or cold - but it was food, and her body welcomed the nutrients. She washed it down with the cup of water, and replaced the empty bowl, cup and used spoon on the tray. She wasn’t sure where she was supposed to put the tray, but then she paused.

:readmore

I wonder if perhaps…

She placed the tray on the floor, and knelt down in front of the door. The door was definitely locked, she knew that from when she had last woken up in this cell,  but if she could open up the food slot in the bottom of the door, she might be able to force herself through it and escape. She reached out and gently started prodding the slot. It didn’t budge, so she tried harder, putting all her force into shoving the small slot wide open. Still no dice. She let out a frustrated huff, and sank down onto the floor in a disgruntled heap. Tears sprouted in her eyes, and she sniffed furiously, trying to keep them at bay. She had to hold herself together - she refused to let these people break her that easily. A sudden scraping noise startled her, and she rose to her feet, determined to let whoever was on the other side see how strong she was. The door swung open to reveal two guards. They grasped her arms firmly to her sides and began dragging her down the endless, labyrinth-like hallways of the NPRO Facility. She let out a frustrated cry. 

“Let GO of ME!!” She screamed, tugging herself free of their clutches.

She sprinted forward, encouraged by a sudden burst of adrenaline. She had no idea where the building exit was, but she was certain that if she kept running she could find her way. The endless hallways were filled with doors, but none of them appeared to be an exit. She blocked out the sound of the guards behind her and picked a door at random - the last door on the left. She knew she was getting closer, but she felt like she was having a nightmare - the door never seemed to get closer, if anything the hallway seemed to stretch out, pushing the door even further away from her. She was suddenly thrown to the ground, the trance-like state she was in dissolving the instant her body collided with the tiles. The wind was knocked out of her. She was left wheezing for air, and she couldn’t react as the guards pressed the button on the handcuff remote and her wrists and ankles slammed together at the cuffs. They hauled her roughly to her feet and gripped her arms, much tighter this time. She thrashed weakly, even though the moment left her vision fading at the edges, and so she reluctantly gave in, letting the guards drag her down the hall. When she saw where she was being taken, her heart sank.

“Ha! Wait till we tell the Doc you tried to escape by running right to her!” 

The guards chuckled behind their faceless dark helmets as the trio came to a stop in front of the very same door Valkyrie had been racing towards just moments earlier. The guard punched in a series of numbers on a keypad beside the door and it swung open, allowing them entrance into the room. The guards led her inside, and upon their entry the door swung shut behind them. Scientists stood around the room, and Valkyrie’s eyes immediately landed on Doctor Clarke, who raised an eyebrow at her as she took in Valkyrie’s state. 

“Ay, Clarke, you won’t believe what just happened! ‘492 just tried to escape.. by running straight here!” The guard to Valkyrie’s left guffawed. 

Doctor Clarke’s face spread into a soft smirk. “Is that right? Well, it’s a good thing today’s experiment should make Subject 0492 much more compliant… Put it on the table, please.” 

At that command, the guards dragged Valkyrie over to the metal table in the centre of the room. She struggled in the guards’ grip, which was now much tighter than before. They lifted her onto her back, as though she were a turtle being swept onto her shell, and she landed on the table with a grunt, the air leaving her lungs. 

The cuffs activated, and her limbs slammed into the table, holding her in place. The guards then stepped back, awaiting further instructions.

“Stand in front of the door. Today’s experiment will require it to be unbound at times, so I don’t want to take any chances - especially given it has already tried to escape today.” Doctor Clarke frowned. 

Valkyrie’s stomach did a summersault. What kind of experiment would mean they can let me free?

The Doctor, as though reading her thoughts, turned her head and smiled. “I think you’ll find this very interesting… Right, let’s get started!”

The scientists swarmed around the table. One whitecoat-clad figure handed Doctor Clarke a small container. She opened it up, revealing two small, round objects, which she placed in Valkyrie’s ears, despite the Subject’s squirming. Valkyrie could no longer hear the scientists’ words, and she was forced to watch as the scientists’ mouths moved silently around her. A moment later, a loud whining echoed through her skull. She winced, and her arms twitched against her restraints. Soon, the restraints were removed, but before she could move to escape, another whining, this time in a different pitch, was played through the earphones. She found herself on her knees in the centre of the room before she even realised what was happening. She lifted her head to see Doctor Clarke clutching a tablet. The Doctor hit the screen, and another whining in yet a different pitch sounded in Val’s ears. Her legs lifted up from underneath and swung her into a standing position. She gasped. The Doctor pressed the tablet again, and she found herself sitting on the floor, cross-legged. With one last whine, Val was drawn over to the metal table in the centre of the room and the scientists stepped forward to lift her onto the cold surface. The earbuds were removed, and her restraints put back in place, pinning her to the table once more. 

“You may have a bit of a headache later… We’re still working out some of the details. I think an implant of some kind would be much more convenient than earbuds.” Doctor Clarke removed her mask and smiled. “But what did you think, ‘492?”

Valkyrie’s face twisted into a snarl. “LET ME GO YOU B-”

She erupted into a string of infuriated curses, the fear fueling her anger, and thrashing against the restraints, despite how chafed her limbs were quickly becoming. 

Doctor Clarke began shouting over Valkyrie. “GET ME A SYRINGE, NOW! IT NEEDS TO BE SEDATED!”

The white-clad scientists and black-clad guards swarmed around Valkyrie, which only kicked her fear-fueled rage into overdrive. She thrashed harder than ever, even as bare hands and nitrile gloved-hands gripped her limbs and tried to hold her still. She screamed as each hand was laid on her. 

“LET ME GO! LET ME GOOOO!” Her cries were like those of a feral animal.

A sharp prick in the meat of her shoulder caused her to momentarily pause her struggle.

Was that... A needle?  

The realisation made the panic kick back in, and she screamed harder than before.

“NOOOO!”

She wriggled and slammed her limbs into the table as if she could somehow escape the grip of the dozens of scientists and the guards around her. And so she noticed as her limbs began to grow weaker and her movement became more sluggish and slow. Her cries came in soft, uneven pants as the sedative began to kick in. The world was a blindingly white blur and she soon found herself slumping back onto the table, unable to hold her own weight. Murmured voices swirled above her, and she tried to lock in on them, to understand what they were saying, but the world was melting away before her. She relented and allowed herself to be wheeled through the halls of the facility, her arms hanging limply by her sides as she stared up at her increasingly-fuzzy surroundings. They stopped inside her cell to deliver her onto the bed, and yet, to Valkyrie, the world still seemed to be spinning and swirling, as if she was inside a Van Gogh painting. She heard a faint bang as the guards left the cell and slammed the door behind them, and then she was left in silence. She lay there, slipping in and out of dazed consciousness, for hours until the effects of the drug finally began to fade just as the door creaked open. 

Two guards stepped inside, accompanied by Doctor Clarke, and slammed the door shut after them. 

“Oh look, the bear cub’s finally awake.” One joked.

“Yeah, looks like the tranq did it some good!” The other guard, who was holding a meal tray,  laughed.

Doctor Clarke ignored their remarks and moved towards the bed that Valkyrie lay on. She bent over and put a hand to Valkyrie’s forehead, then retracted it. She proceeded to shine a light in Valkyrie’s eyes and examine her face closely, then the Subject’s arms and noted how weakly she squeezed the Doctor’s hand when she was asked to. 

“Looks like it’s still affecting it, so we have a good estimate of how long that dose will put it out of commission. Alright, give it the food.” Doctor Clarke remarked, stepping away.

The guards placed the tray in front of the bed, and then the three figures left. Valkyrie was alone once more. It was possibly several more hours before she was able to move enough to eat the unappetising gruel left for her, by which time the meal was cold and even more unappetising. She forced it down her throat numbly, then sank onto the bed and curled into a ball. That night, she fell asleep to the sound of her own tears. 

~~~

PART 4

Taglist: (please ask to be tagged or untagged!)

@whumppsychology @inky-whump

#operation valkyrie #whumpblr #lab rat whump #lab whump #tw needles #noncon drugging #whump community #whump fics #whump drabble #loss of control #medical whump #lab rat #laser torture #laser brand mention #dehumanisation whump #it pronouns #female whumpee

[emmetrain]

@syllusion liked for a starter!

It was a strange night indeed. Away from Nimbasa City and Unova where his memories, good and bad, awaited him like a moth to a flame, and away from prying eyes, now that once a joyful and wonderful day only left an empty shell of sorrow, Emmet felt more at ease in the isolated clearing in the forest than he felt at home in recent years, following the incident.

As a hitchhiker who gave no name and wanted to be let out once at Sinnoh, roadside of wild nothingness, he knew he was being verrrrry suspicious. He just wanted to grieve yet another birthday without his brother around, but the solitude was an unpleasant company Emmet could not bear.

He took a seat despite knowing the grass stains were going to be a nightmare on his white pants, as he was settling in and taking a deep breath to ease his lungs. His attire was not following the dress code, just an old black sweater, his old jacket he had altered to erase any identifiable signs on it. Though, he wished he could have kept the jacket arm longer to cover the scars on his right arm, reminiscent of a distant failure. The small chain was moving with the night breeze, hung on the pocket watch he kept with him as he did not carry his phone. He could not stomach seeing all the people celebrating a day that no longer sounded true.

Setting the many plastic bowls and plates with berries and snacks he had gathered and prepared, as well as small party hats to offer to make his inner child happy, he lit up the incense to invite the neighbors for the small pity party.

As the pokemons were drawn to the pretty pastel green clouds of the incense, Emmet plated some of the snacks and dishes into smaller bowls and offered them to the curious friends.

"I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. Feel free to eat as much or as little as you want," Emmet spoke softly with a tried smile. Being on the road all day was starting to take its toll.

"It's my brother's birthday today. He... He looks like me, but with shorter hair. He also does not smile a lot. He is verrrry strong and wears black. If you see him, can you... tell we miss him? That I... I miss him?" Emmet told the story for the nth time as he was offering yet another bowl.

Small footsteps mixed with bigger ones, but Emmet did not look around to see who they were. Everyone was welcome to get some food, and a party hat if they wished. It was lifting his spirits to see the pokemons with the hats happily chomping on the snacks.

"Hi. I am Emmet. Would you like some berries? I also have some food with cheese and meat if you would prefer," Emmet asked softly as he was digging through the bag and small containers of food, not looking up to see who he was serving this time.

#verse;; searching for the truth #syllusion #((HI!! I think I have some ideas for one more starter with your muses!! I will tag your blog with the next one as well! :D #((I see small venting and bonding time for syl and emmet in the future #((I am so excited!! #long post

[lokrow]

An Adams's Lunar New Year

(Written as a charge for the game Journey To The Moon in the LNY maincord event channels.)

CW: Food.

The food truck was closed for the day but Kit was still cooking. Nothing big, hong shao kao fu had been made already and was in the fridge in hopes to cool it to serving temperature faster.

Kit was now focused on getting the main together. Simple lo mein noodles, nothing fancy for this dinner but that wasn't where their thoughts had gone.

Outside the back of the truck sat two guests, who'd arrived and had been waiting for them since before closing time. So Kit wanted to get the food ready fast to avoid making their new teammate and his wife wait any longer.

Once they'd had the wok hot and added the peanut oil to stir fry in, the dish came together fast. Every ingredient prepped before the heat was on waited on the cramped countertop inside the truck.

Once the veggies had fallen into the wok and got their time in there came the pasta, frozen udon over the more common spaghetti as both a hack to save time and a preference of theirs.

Premjeet and his wife Yǔxī Liu were happy to sit on simple folding chairs at a simple folding table, one wore a red turban and the other a red qipao to mark the occasion. They had offered to help Kit with folding the handful of tables and help move them back into the truck. Kit had vehemently denied help, assuring them the food would be ready soon. But with Kit having closed the serving windows, the two of them had simply done it while Kit couldn't see them.

"I'm sorry the starter is just lukewarm but hopefully it still tastes like you remember." Kit said, voice carrying far from their habit of speaking to a crowd of attendees. Carrying to plastic trays, one with four bowls and the other with three, they had simply kicked the truck door open and hoped Premjeet or Yǔxī hadn't opted to stand behind it instead of sitting at the table. This resulted in the stack of folded tables to come toppling and clattering down to the floor.

A quick exchange of looks first between Kit and Premjeet, then Kit and Yǔxī and ending with Yǔxī and Premjeet made several things clear. Kit disapproved of them helping them, the married couple did not care and they were going to help put those tables back up.

Kit stared in mock frustrated helplessness, both hands bound by the trays of food, as their new teammate and his wife stood up as one and put the folded up plastic tables against the side of the truck this time. "I could have done this." Kit attempted to complain.

"We know." Premjeet began. "But we weren't gonna let you." Yǔxī finished with a joking smile. All three smiled, this had become a running theme of their dynamic since Kit met them first at one of their food workshops to teach simple home dishes. Yǔxī and Kit had hit it off quickly, with Yǔxī sharing how she could never manage to make food taste the way she remembered since arriving here.

Kit set the trays down, one with three bowls of steaming hot noodle dishes and one with lukewarm braised wheat gluten, topped with peanuts for crunch for two of them, Kit didn't much care for the texture addition personally. They instead had a side bowl of wok-roasted peanuts for their own enjoyment.

Hong shao kao fu was the exact dish Yǔxī had shared never managing to make taste the same as back home. She recognised it immediately and her eyes lit up nearly as bright as the fireworks that would normally come with the occasion. They turned to Premjeet and reassured, "both vegetarian." pre-empting any concerns.

All three sat down, the cold air of january in Charleston cooled the meals down as they ate but even the last of the cold noodles felt warm in good company far from home.

#blaseball #lunar new year #lny #flash fiction #fanfic #premjeet liu #Yǔxī liu #Kit Adamses #journey to the moon

[seradyn]

Letter to my abusers.

Hey, so I’m gonna share something a little different. I don’t talk about it much, but my childhood was…less than perfect, to put it simply. I’ve been holding on to a lot of anger for over a decade because of it, and I finally wanted to let it out. I’ve contemplated sending a letter to the people who hurt me, but I don’t think I will. It’s nice to just finally let some of this out.

Read at your own discretion, this is a vent letter, and it features child abuse.

———————————————————————

To whom it may concern,

There used to be a daycare run out of this house, by a Hawaiian family. Run by a large woman, who made us call her Auntie, I remember it well.

This is a letter from one of the kids who used to go there.

And let me tell you…I hated it.

The way you treated me, was nothing short of abuse.

And I remember all of it. Too many examples to properly give justice.

I remember when you put me down for touching something you left in your living room. How you condescendingly told me I wouldn’t like it if someone came into my house and touched my things.

I was a child. I was five.

But you didn’t care. Abusers never do.

I remember the time you let me go hungry for a full day.

In the morning, you served me oatmeal, a mushy, brownish glob that was in a bowl much too big. I took one bite, and cringed at the texture. I couldn’t eat it.

You took that as a sign of defiance. Wouldn’t let me leave the table until I finished it. When I proved my own stubbornness was stronger, you dismissed me, and I thought that was that.

Imagine my surprise when come lunch time, the same blue, plastic bowl filled with gritty mush was put in front of me.

I couldn’t leave until I ate it. I couldn’t join the other kids in front of the TV until I’d eaten it.

I had autism. Not that you cared, but it made the texture unbearable.

When, again, I made it clear I would not be eating your oatmeal, you dismissed me. I didn’t see food again until my parents picked me up, 5 o’clock sharp.

You didn’t seem bothered by the rolling of my empty stomach.

I remember when you punished me for not remembering what I’d read from my books during reading time.

I had ADHD. Not that you cared, but it meant my memory wasn’t as good as it was supposed to be. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t recall what my books contained.

So, when I failed your pop quiz, you punished me, believing I hadn’t read anything at all.

Can you even imagine my frustration? Not only because you didn’t believe me, but the fact I couldn’t remember was in itself upsetting. Why couldn’t I remember?

You made me hate reading. I had to start rereading each of my books three, maybe four times over, out of fear I would be asked to regurgitate its words. The sheer boredom I felt as I read the same blurb about Polar Bears 3 times was enough to kill, but I had to.

I was afraid of you.

I remember when you rubbed it in my face how much better the younger kids were than me.

You went the public humiliation route this time, made me sit at the kids table, reserved for 5 and under, while I was going on 7, maybe 8. Made sure I watched as you let one of the 4 year olds sit at the dining table, the real one. And at the end of the meal - lunch I believe - you made sure to praise her manners, and berate me for mine.

Poor kid, she hadn’t liked it either. She never smiled during this, not with pride or smugness. Only confusion painted her face that day, as she looked between the two of us.

She didn’t understand she’d been made a tool, a puppet for your petty games.

But you didn’t care. I doubt you even noticed her discomfort, despite your praise.

I remember when you made me repeat a nasty phrase I’d said to my sister during an argument.

Yes, it was mean. Very mean, and I deserved to be punished for it.

But you made me tell everyone. Every time one of the family members came downstairs to speak with you, you made me repeat it for them. You let them each individually scold me for it. Long after I’d realized it was wrong to say and why, long after my cheeks ran red with shame, you let them scold me. Made them scold me. Made sure I was humiliated as much as possible by being forced to repeat that phrase.

Your family isn’t small, and far from nice or gentle. When they scold, they yell.

I guess you figured one reprimanding wasn’t enough. Even for a petty squabble between siblings.

Much of these moments, carried out by one woman. Not the main caretaker; she was a relative. I can remember her face like I’d just seen it, her jet black hair, the streak of bright blue down the side, the piercings. I remember her, for she, out of all the family, was the worst of them all.

I will never forgive her. For almost 20 years, that hatred hasn’t lessened. Hasn’t gone away. No, it’s only intensified.

And I will never forgive you, for letting her be my abuser. The rest of your family was abusive too…but nothing compared to that woman.

I dreaded being brought to your daycare.

So much so, I once chose to sit outside my empty house, in the cold and rain, waiting for hours until my parents got home. I was too young to have a key.

I chose to be cold and wet and hungry over going to your house.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

How dare you treat a child like you treated me. Treated us.

This was only a sampling of all I was put through.

Sometimes, we’d see each other. When I got a little older, didn’t need the daycare anymore, sometimes we’d bump into each other. On Halloween my dad would take me trick-or-treating in your neighborhood, and I’d see you.

Your door would fly open, and soon your arms would too, squealing with delight at seeing me again. As if all those years had been some of the best.

While I had to force a smile. Had to pretend I was glad to see you too. I didn’t want to start anything.

But now I’m older. Now I understand.

What you were, what you did to me.

I hope for any child’s sake you don’t run your daycare anymore.

They’re better off without it.

- A kid you left traumatized

#needed to get it out #I’ve had it bottled up for too long #it still hurts #childhood abuse