#Making Almond Milk from Scratch

[northbirdblog]

How to Make Almond Milk

Another easy and delicious money-saver from the Northbird kitchen!

[strang3lov3]

Midnight Snack

Roman’s the only one who can get you off. (3.2k)

Tags - stepdad!roman, dom!roman, stepcest, dubcon/noncon, manhandling (i can't believe he has it in him either), manipulation, coercion, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unsafe piv, creampie, dom/sub, roman's icky as usual. sorry. Also daddy kink. Sorry. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal, @beefrobeefcal, and @endlessthxxghts tysm for all that you do! ♡ A/N - he’s baaaaaaack!! It’s gonna get worse before it gets better. Hope you’re all sluts for ickiness like me. I have so many plans for daddy romey, I might have another fic coming out this week. Peer pressure works on me jsyk. Also might do a new sleazy gynecologist Roman au. We’ll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at least a one shot. Thots? Feelings?

Follows Boundaries but can be read as a standalone 🩷

Stepdad!Roman Masterlist

You don’t know it, but Roman can hear you. Roman’s been listening to the ceiling above him - your floor - creak for hours. Sometimes vigorously, sometimes gently. On and off, all night. Your bed creaks too. Soft springs groaning and squeaking as you hump your pillow, the pillow Roman laid his head on as you rode his cock. Can you smell him in your blankets? Have you washed his stains off your sheets yet? And through the air vents, he can hear your frustrated whimpers, your strangled, broken moans. Poor thing. You can’t come, can you?

The bed creaks loudly, louder than those rhythmic noises it made before. And then there’s muffled footsteps, the sound becoming clear as you open your door and walk down the hall, down the stairs. Shifting a bit on the couch, Roman looks over his shoulder and watches as you open a cabinet and grab yourself a glass. You fill it with crushed ice and water from the fridge, then drink it all over the sink. The TV’s on in the living room, volume barely audible, bluish-white light flickers like lightning. 

Roman’s footsteps startle you as he stands up from the couch, you whip around to see him stretching his back and his shoulders as he yawns. “You’re up way past your bedtime, young lady. It’s…” Roman squints and checks the time on the oven, “Late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Roman says, walking into the kitchen as he scratches the back of his neck. “You’d be surprised at what you could hear through the walls. Very thin, very, very thin.” He brushes against you as he opens a cabinet. His soft, white t-shirt rides up and exposes his soft tummy and the dark hairs spattered down it as he pulls out a ceramic bowl. You step to the side, uncomfortable with his touch but Roman continues to invade your space; he puts his cold hand on your hip to nudge you out of the way so he can open the silverware drawer. He paces around the kitchen some more, opening other cabinets until he finds his Tupperware container of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, then opens the fridge for his carton of almond milk. He makes himself a large bowl of cereal. “Want some?”

“No.” You bring your glass to your lips and chew on the leftover ice, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Roman watches you, eyes scrolling up and down your body slowly. You’re fidgeting, you’re uncomfortable. It’s written all over your face, evident in your body language. Shoulders curled inward, arms crossed over your chest, you’re keeping your distance from him. So defensive. You have to be, of course. Roman will exploit any and all vulnerability in you that he can find. He smirks as he eats a spoonful of the sugary cereal, a bit of milk dribbling down his bottom lip. 

It wasn’t really news to him, your feelings. He found it unsurprising when he read your diary and learned the ins and outs of your feelings for him. Sickly-sweet fantasies about him making love to you, detailed and romantic descriptions of his handsomeness. Puppy love. It seems that���s all gone now, and it’s funny how quickly it happened, replaced with nothing but disgust. Disgust at Roman himself, maybe. He thinks that more than likely, you’re disgusted by yourself. Being confronted with your feelings in such an intimate, vulnerable, shameful way did a number on you, huh? It almost makes Roman sad, and he wonders if that puppy love is still inside you somewhere, buried deep beneath the guilt and humiliation.

“You toss and turn a lot, you know that? You’re a restless sleeper, just like your mother.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Jesus. I can’t make conversation with you? You’ve had such an attitude with me recently, and I don’t - I don’t appreciate it. I thought that maybe we could chill and watch TV like we used to, but sure - I’ll just fuck off, thanks.”

Roman kind of misses those nights with you. He wasn’t lying or making another comparison of you to your mother just to get under your skin, though he knows how well that works on you. He has a hard time sleeping in the same bed with your mother, can’t quite drown out the snoring or tolerate the tossing and turning. He spends a lot of nights on the couch in the living room. You used to join him there when you couldn’t sleep either, when your sheets and your pillows felt too hot and suffocating. You and Roman would watch shitty horror movies and Saturday Night Live together until you fell asleep, and then you’d share quiet, dark mornings alone together until your mom woke up. Your head on Roman’s lap, him gently stroking your hair. You used to feel safe around him. 

You need to remove yourself from this situation. You dump the ice out in the sink, then place your glass on the countertop. It all sounds so loud in the quiet kitchen. You shove past Roman, causing him to spill some of his cereal onto the floor. He lets out a breathless laugh, irritated. He slams the bowl of cereal down on the dining room table then follows you, you’re already three steps up the stairs. Roman grabs your arm and yanks you down the steps, causing you to stumble and yelp. He catches you, clutches you against his chest. You’re reminded that he’s stronger than he looks.

“You, sweetheart-” Roman drags you by the arm back into the dining room, his nails digging into your skin,  “-Need to remember who’s in authority here. Who’s living in whose home, huh? You don’t get to fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” Roman backs you against a wall, his hot breath fanning over your neck. Your jaw is clenched, your body so rigid and hard like glass, on the verge of breaking into a million pieces. You’re just defensive, that’s all this is and good for you for having that fight in you. Roman knows you’re delicate underneath it all. He’s seen it, seen how small he can make you.

All it takes is a knee between your thighs, Roman pressing himself against your center, and then you gasp, melt a little. All of your fire snuffed out with a simple, dull touch. He knows you. You’re his stepdaughter for fuck’s sake, and so easy to read he could find you in a book. All bark, no bite, and easier than you think you are. Roman’s eyes dart across your face as he breathes heavily, a smile curling on his lips. 

“You know what I think?”

“Shut up, Rom–”

“No, you shut up. I think you’re in a mood because you can’t make yourself come. And you’re taking it out on your stepfather. Kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” It makes Roman’s cock swell when your pupils widen and your jaw goes slack at his words, your bottom lip wobbling slightly. He’s vulgar on purpose; intentionally lacking any nuance or subtlety when he speaks. He needs to get under your skin, make you squirm for him. “Ohhh. There it is. You’re busted, young lady.” 

You twist your arm in an attempt to wriggle yourself out of Roman’s grip, but he holds you tighter, pressing his knee harder against your cunt. You’re beginning to soak through your shorts, through his plaid pajama pants. You’d thank god he can’t feel it yet, but does it matter? One way or another, he’s gonna find you soaked for him. Your tummy flutters when Roman’s long, deft fingers push your hoodie up your body so he can find the drawstring of your pajama shorts, tugging the knot undone. 

“I heard you, you know,” Roman growls against your ear. “You sounded so frustrated, kiddo. Your fingers just aren’t - aren’t quite doing the trick anymore, huh?”

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Please what? Be specific, sweetheart. Please make you come? Do you need daddy to make you come? You miss how daddy fucked you?” Roman smiles at how he taunts you, how uncomfortable his words make you as you writhe under him, wriggling your hips away from his knee. “Is that it? Do you miss me, is that what this is?” 

You use the hand that’s not gripping Roman’s wrist to shove his chest, knocking him away from you only slightly. Kudos to you, getting a shot in, making your daddy proud. The fight only serves to excite him. 

Roman pouts with feigned displeasure. “Ouch,” he says, “I’m hurt, sweetheart, so hurt. Maybe I miss you. Not miss you, miss you. But…you know.” Roman tilts his head to the side, cautiously letting go of your arm to bring his palm to your face. You flinch as you await his touch, a gentle caress across your jaw. He uses his thumb to tug on your bottom lip, then releases it. 

“Look at us, here like this. I know you’re hot, too.” 

You shake your head, No, but your body betrays you. Deep, trembling breaths, pupils widened with lust. Roman knows when he dips his slender fingers into your cunt, you’ll soak him, slick running down his digits and into his palm. Maybe he’ll make you lick it up.

“I could make you come. I could do that easily, actually. You know that. Remember?”

He shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, and it feels cold and unwelcome, but familiar all the same. He glides his fingertips through your folds, relishing in the mess he caused you to make. It makes you feel sick, giving him this satisfaction. You tug and tug on his forearm, trying to force him away from you. This can’t happen again. “Roman,” you beg.

“Shh - just quit…fuckin’...” You’re scratching him, leaving little marks on his skin that’ll burn when he showers later. You’re making things much more difficult for him, more difficult for yourself. Don’t you know how much better you’ll feel when he makes you come? You poor, stupid thing. All out of sorts until daddy calms you down. “Rela - hey, relax. Don’t fight it. Quit fighting me.” 

Roman drops his knee to allow himself space to touch you the way he wants to. He circles your clit with just one finger, patiently rounding the sensitive bud. You’re still all tense, full of combativeness, of aggression. While massaging your clit, Roman waits patiently for you to soften. “This is what you want,” he whispers. His eyes are glazed and lidded, silky strands of hair cascading over his face. “I know you need this.”

You fall apart for him. It’s palpable, your reaction. Guard lowered, you tilt your head back, your shoulders drop slightly, you unclench your jaw. “Roman,” you sigh softly, the relief evident in your voice. He’s successfully molded you into compliance. 

 “Yeah, that’s it. Over here, come over here.” Roman pulls his fingers from your core and you whine in frustration, he shushes you with an I know, I know. Roman spins you around and backs you against the dining room table, then sets you down. He pushes chairs out of the way and cringes at the loud sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood floor, then drops to his knees. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face, causing the bowl of cereal on the table to slosh slightly. He hooks his thumb under the fabric of your Halloween print pajama shorts, utterly soaked with your arousal, and pulls them to the side. You’re glad he doesn’t say anything about it.

Before Roman tastes you, he looks up and gazes upon your body - your soft tummy heaves up and down with heavy, anticipatory breaths, your thighs are twitching and spread wide, your fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard you could make the wood splinter. And your face, desperation painting your features as you stare down at your stepfather. Oh, how he likes you like this.

Roman spits on your cunt before he licks it, causing you to gasp. He watches the bead of saliva roll down your folds as you grip his hair, fingers tingling as you tug those sleek, graying strands of his impatiently. You shouldn’t be pulling him closer. It’s wrong, it’s all so wrong. Roman’s on his knees for you and really, he should feel vulnerable right now. It’s a submissive position in and of itself, being on one’s knees for another. Theoretically, if you found the strength within yourself, you could snap his neck. Easily. But you won’t do so much as push him away right now, and Roman knows this. Not while he’s using his mouth to part you open and explore your cunt, tongue drawing up and down your soft, slick folds. “You fucking need this, don’t you?” he murmurs, slowly slipping two fingers inside your wet heat. “Tell me you need me.”  

“I need you, Roman,” you whimper, pushing his head closer to your center. Roman rewards the admission by curling his fingers, stroking that sensitive space inside of you. All you can do is hold yourself up and take it. 

Roman’s tongue is hot as it laps against your clit. You’re still tugging on his hair, holding him close to you, whimpering his name in broken syllables. As Roman finds a rhythm with his tongue, you rub your thumb along his forehead, his temples. You’re soaking his face completely as he eats you, his tongue pumping in and out of your tight, dripping hole as he noses your clit. He digs his fingertips harshly into the flesh of your thighs, bruising your sensitive skin. You can take the pain, you little slut. 

There’s a gnawing thought in Roman’s mind to pull away and leave you like this, teach you a lesson for that fucking shoulder check and the shove. But he finds himself addicted to the taste of your pleasure and needs to know the feeling of you coming on his tongue. 

But not tonight. Roman pulls away and wipes his face against the soft skin of your inner thighs, causing you to whine in frustration. Good. Roman groans as he stands up, knees cracking. Fuck, he’ll be sore tomorrow. He already is. 

Roman pushes the elastic waistband of his pajamas down his hips, freeing his cock from the confines. Even under the lack of light, you can see how red and angry Roman’s cock is. He’s throbbing, aching to be inside you once more. 

Roman spits in his fist and grips his aching member, a low groan escapes his throat. He smears that pearly bead of precome at his slit right over your sensitive clit and you moan at the contact, watching as he drags the head through your folds, just barely notching it inside of you. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whimper urgently, reaching for his cock. You try to stop him from going further, but god - how you missed the warmth and the weight of his shaft in your hand. 

Roman pulls your hand away and continues to tease you, dragging the tip up and down, pushing himself in and out of you. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong,” you nod, panting while tilting your hips as he runs the thick head of his cock back and forth over your clit. 

“That’s why we like it.”

With that, Roman fills you with a slow, steady slide inside your cunt that has him moaning. He holds the back of your neck, pointer finger at your skull to tilt your head down and make you watch as it happens, his cock disappearing into your body.  “Ohh, fuck,” he groans, pulling out of you about halfway before pushing in again. 

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and clutch the worn fabric of his white t-shirt as he draws in and out of you, his scruffy cheek right against yours. He rolls his hips at a punishing pace and looks at you, wrapping your legs tighter around him. You’re so pathetic. 

“Rome - fuck - Roman,” you whisper, then bite into his neck to quiet your cries.

 You’re drooling, spit dripping down onto his collarbones. It makes Roman smile. “Listen to you,” he murmurs. “Trying so hard to be quiet, aren’t you?”

You nod against him as he fucks you, the mahogany wood table groaning and creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman pulls back, a string of saliva that connects from your lips to his throat breaks. He shoves the two fingers that were inside your pussy into your mouth, “Suck,” he commands. 

You suck his fingers, humming at the tanginess of your own arousal. From this position, you can see his face clearly. His hazel eyes are black with lust, hooded and glazed over. There’s something both human and robotic about the way he looks at you as he pumps his cock in and out of you, like he’s a slave to his own biological needs. He moves into a deep and hard rhythm, now wriggling his free hand between your writhing bodies. He paints those same steady circles against your clit with his thumb, just like he did before. “You gonna come for me? You gonna - fuck - you gonna come on daddy’s cock?”

You nod, Roman’s fingers still jammed down your throat so that tears are beginning to spring up in the corners of your eyes. He watches your face contort as the pleasure begins to build, almost exponentially. Your eyes squeeze shut and your brows knit tightly together, you’re biting on Roman’s fingers and there it is - your orgasm washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each roll of Roman’s hips. “Yeah, you fuckin’ needed that,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ needed me.”

Your own climax coaxes Roman’s along, and he pulls his fingers from your mouth. Your pulsing cunt, the slick noises you make together - it all goes straight to his stomach, directly to his balls. His cock is throbbing as he empties himself into you with a deep and guttural groan, filling you with his come. He fucks you through his high until his his thrusts slow to a standstill, then pulls his softening member out of your body. 

Roman takes satisfaction in the fact he has to ease your trembling legs onto the floor, your hips too sore to move on your own. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over your hip bones, and it makes him feel needed in a more gratifying way than by getting you off. 

Roman reaches for his bowl of cereal, little white splashes of milk decorate the table around it. Oops. He wipes that up with a paper towel, along with his spend that leaked from your body. He then takes a bite of his cereal. “That actually worked out perfectly,” he mumbles, mouth full. “My Cinnamon Toast Crunch is nice and soggy, so yeah - thanks for the uh…I don’t know. You know.”

Roman walks back into the living room with his cereal, and you’re still by the table, standing awkwardly. The floor under your bare feet is still warm with Roman’s body heat. You pick at your fingernails anxiously. 

“What are you doing in there, kiddo?” Roman calls from the couch. 

“I don’t know. I’m not tired.”

Roman loudly pats the couch cushion next to him, inviting you to join him. You’re not sure what compels you to do it but you do, sitting on the sectional with your knees tucked under your chin. Roman watches you, tense all over again. Your thighs are covered in goosebumps. He takes the edge of his plush, oversized blanket and tosses it over your legs, then turns up the volume of the TV. 

next

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You think you remember. Or at least you’ve convinced yourself that you do.

You go through the painstaking steps as the dark presence looms across the counter. The man walks along, just on the other side of the machines as you steam the milk. Toffee nut, yes, you’re pretty sure that was it.

You put it all together, step by step, hands shaking. Your lips move as you talk yourself through your work silently. You can do this. You still feel how the man scratched you through your shirt when he grabbed you, your skin fiery.

You give one last look to the foam and send a prayer up to whatever deity will hear it. You slowly move to the till and place the cup down. You wet your lips and clear your throat.

“Almond, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” you declare, voice quavering as you stare at the bristle across the man’s upper lip. “Mr. Hansen.”

He clucks and leans on the counter, hooking one foot behind the other. He wraps his hand around the cup and slides it closer to himself. He stares down into as you fidget. You glance around at the baked goods.

“And a cinnamon bun?” You suggest but before you can carry through on the offer, a splash of liquid washes over you, hot despite the layer of steamed milk.

“Oat milk,” he crushes the empty cup in his large hand and throws it at your face. You sputter and blink as the foam drips down your cheeks.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll make it again.”

“Fucking right, you will, sweet lips,” he growls and stands straight, crossing his arms.

You pull the bottom of your apron up and wipe your face. You bend to pick up the empty cup and turn away. Your eyes sting and you wiggle your tingling nose. It’s fine. You can do this.

Oat, half blond, half regular, toffee nut, cinnamon on top. The smell of espresso and syrup clings to you as you make the death march back to the till. You set the cup down without a word.

Mr. Hansen, Lloyd, the boss, whatever he is, considers you as he lifts the drink and examines the careful leafy art in the foam. He turns it and inhales the scent, some of the foam catching in his mustache. He takes a breath as if about to dive into water and has a taste. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he pulls the cup away from his mouth. He hums. Does he like it?

Splash.

Another searing dousing and you stand there with a gasp, shaking off the dredge of his displeasure.

“Mr. Hansen, I--”

“First thing’s first. Shut the fuck up. You talk too much,” he tosses the cup. Bonk, right off your forehead. “Second, I changed my mind. Get me a mocha. Extra whip.”

You nod and keep your head down. You pick up the cup and stand, nearly slipping in the puddle around your feet. You dispose of the empty cup and go to the coffee machine. You begin your new task, hands clumsy and trembling. You add the whipped cream and return to the till. You put the cup down and grab onto the counter to keep from sliding through the liquid at your soles.

He lifts it and you wince, bracing for another deluge. He repeats the same deliberate examination. You swallow tightly as he samples your work. This time he doesn’t make a noise. As he lowers the cup, you flinch and take a step back.

He cackles, “relax, cupcake.”

You stare at him grimly. You flick your lashes and blow out your nerves. You hide your shaking hands behind you.

“Now you know who the fuck I am,” he says, “clean yourself up and get back to work.”

He grabs a package of the cookies along the small shelf beside the till then turns on his heel and struts to the door. You watch after him, damp and dripping. As the door opens and closes, you turn to face the mess. You sigh and go to grab the mop; you can clean the floor but you can’t do much for yourself.

You work at soaking up the excess then spray cleaner on the floor and wipe with paper towel to prevent it from getting sticky. As you work at sopping up the errant droplets from the counter, the door behind you swings open. You glance over your shoulder as Bre sweeps through.

“Alright, your turn--” She stops short as you face her. “What happened?” Her face slackens with dread and shock, “what did you do?”

“It was Mr. Jansen—Hansen,” you correct yourself, “he came by and--”

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses.

“I... I didn’t have a choice. He wanted a drink and--”

“Fuck. Fuck! What did he say? What did he do?” She snaps.

You recoil at her accusatory tone, “he... he threw coffee in my face? He took some cookies? I don’t know? He just... said now I know who he is. I didn’t really understand--”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

You frown and cross your arms, “I’m sorry, Bre, I did my best--”

“Not good enough. You think it’s all fun and games. It’s not. That man is dangerous. Not just here, everywhere,” she shakes her head, “you’ll see. Out there, on your own. Give me your apron.”

“What?” You murmur.

“Get out. I’ll call Maurice and let him know it didn’t work out.”

“What? No, you can’t--”

“I am. Give me your apron. Now.”

You pout and sniffle. You reach back behind you and unlace the apron and lift it over your head. You hold it out to her, “it’s wet--”

“Just go.”

You hang your head and turn away. Your eyes begin to stream before you even get through the door. You grab your stuff from the backroom and give one last look around. You got fired. What are you going to do?

You fold your jacket over your arm and sling your bag from your shoulder. You let yourself out into the alley and head down to the street. You stop at the end and cover your face, sniveling behind your hands as you lean on the brick. You don’t want to go back home. You only just got there.

“Whatsa matter, sweet lips?” The low drawl is followed by a loud slurp, “bad day?”

[lowspoonsfood]

Microwave Instant Oatmeal Muffins

(I don’t know if this blog is still active, but I hope you’re doing well, regardless!)

A slightly modified version of a recipe I found on a vegan cooking blog. It’s good for a quick meal, especially because you don’t have to be super precise with the measurements the way you would baking from scratch. Also, it’s great if you, say, have a texture issue with instant oatmeal but ended up with a lot of it somehow. (No points for guessing how I know that.)

1 packet instant oatmeal (whatever flavor you have on hand)

2 tbsp flour

¼ tsp baking powder

1 tsp neutral oil (I usually use vegetable or canola oil)

¼ cup milk or non-dairy milk (the original used water, but I like using almond milk because the protein makes the whole thing super filling)

Instructions

Dump all of the ingredients in a microwave-safe mug. Stir. 

Microwave on high for two minutes. 

If there are still damp spots, you can add 5-10 second increments until it’s cooked through.

Notes:

You can customize this recipe pretty much as much as you want. Dried fruit, maple syrup, cinnamon, whatever. Just mix it in before you microwave, and keep in mind that you may need to adjust cooking time if you go overboard.

You can measure the dry ingredients out ahead of time if it makes things easier. Honestly, the hardest thing about this is gathering the ingredients.

[casperth3ghost]

"mundane hcs" but its acc just shit i do on a daily basis

ANYWAYS, a list of random things i do that i think tts & vat7k characters would do‼️(this is like most characters btw, like not js the main ones this is like as many as i can remeber and that fit with my self projection

lance will get home from the busiest day ever and the first thing he does is make himself a bowl of ice cream, no matter what hour of the day, he WILL have a bowl of ice cream

varian tries to brush his teeth twice a day but usually how it goes is he takes a shower and then lays and bed lying to himself like "yeah ill js rest my eyes for a couple minutes and then ill get up" and then he actually falls asleep, but every morning he brushes his teeth with no problems

eugene used to brag about how many cavities hed get until he had to take care of them and started missing when he didnt have any

rapunzel can be mid convo with somebody while texting them and then out of the blue just space out and like "huh..." when she realizes what js happened

cassandra and yong are both lactose intolerant but cass tries to take care of herself(she drinks almond milk & eats frozen yogurt which are 10/10 alternatives for non-lactose free items BTW) but yong just keeps eating everything and then wonders why he feel absolutely diobolical 10 mins later

catalina says shell start a book and then reads 1 page then forgets about it for around 3 months ans then remeber and the gets so focused on it no one knows if shes okay, angry does the same thing but with tv shows

nuru tends to not stop what shes doing to go pee so shes suffered the consequences(shes had a UTI before)

rapunzel, despite telling everyone around her to drink water, shes always suprisingly dehydrated

ulla will wake up at random times at night wondering why the fuck shes awake and then go right back to bed like nothing happened

donella has thought of multiple schemes to kill people but has decided that for her own good she will not commit any of them

quirin forgets to say please and thank you at restruants and then says them last minute and then gets so embarrassed and akward he will just flat out stop talking, he passed this onto varian who seems to suffer with this to even MORE extent bcuz he doesnt realize when someone is complimenting him so he'll just stare at them and then be liek "oh!! oh my gosh thank you!!" but the person already walked away and now he feels like an asshole

adira will wear the same pair of pants for 3 weeks straight w/o washing them bcuz she wears other pairs in between that pair so she has a pant cycle, but none of the pants get washed until she can acc smell like dog shit on them or smth and realizes just how morbidly gross they are

hector says hes a hopeless romantic but has never fallen in love a day in his life

donella knows every word to satisfied from hamilton but she literallt doesnt relate to angelica in any way, shape, or form

catalina is a shameless taylor swift fan

angry is a taylor fan but she will always refuse to admit it bcuz idk she feels ashamed

rapunzel will find a band that scratches her brain and listen to that band until it is literally impossible for her to do so anymore

cassandra loves fettuchini alfredo

king edmund is an accidental social butterfly

queen ariana had attempted to drown willow in a pool more times than she can count

kind fredric will butt into random convos if even just 1 word peaks his intrest

hugo knows how to crochet but never has enough money or motivation to actually make something even mildly useful

hugo is a "booktok" girly but he doesnt and never has had enough money to invest in the shit ton pile of books he wants

varian would rather go to a meuseum then lay in bed at his house

ulla would do cartwheels in an aquarium if she could w/o getting kicked out

cyrus says goodnight and goodbye to everyone but can never muster up to say "i love you" after just bcuz he thinks itll be too akward😓

amber is the type of gay girl to say "ewww lesbian/gay" to her friend/gf bcuz they say smth gay knowing she is just as queer

uhhhh thats all i can think of rn, but like this is mostly based off shit i do... so take all that as you will🤺‼️ ill post any art i decide to shit out in the next couple of days on here but also a reminder i am painfully active on pintrest so uhhh ya:3!! BTW most of these hcs are just stupid and for fun so like pls dont get offended and feel free to add on or give suggestions:3!!

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (155-157)

The Fallout.

We're in the final 20 now!

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

155. On the Record

“So,” Sharma says. “Can you tell us about the blanket?”

Jared, freshly showered and straight out of practice, blinks at the red light of the camera, probably looking like a confused guppy, then blurts out, “How do you know about the blanket?”, which, as far as responses go, is terrible.

Jared Matheson Julius wore that blanket as a cape.

Twice.

“Uh,” Jared says, scratching his neck awkwardly. “No, it was — it just kind of, y’know, became a thing.”

Jared doesn’t know why he becomes the least articulate guy in the world the moment a camera is turned on him, but you’d think he would have gotten over it by now.

How dare you imply you’re articulate without a camera on you.

Jared looks absolutely ridiculous when he’s taken aback. More like a startled owl than a guppy, but a very unfortunate startled owl. So good to know: he should never allow himself to be surprised by anything ever again. Well, at least not in front of cameras or anyone whose opinion he cares about. Who could takes a startled owl seriously? Not Jared.

Guess you’re not Eeyore anymore, huh?

“I think you look cute,” Bryce protests.

“Your comments about my appearance can’t be trusted,” Jared says. It’s all ‘oh you look great Jared’ no matter what he does. Which Jared appreciates, he does, but seriously: startled owl is not cute.

Bryce pouts, then scrolls through his phone for a moment, before saying, “Aw, look at his little face when he realizes the media’s caught onto the feud. Adorable.”

Love that Bryce hears ‘can’t trust your opinion, you are obviously biased’ and then immediately goes to get supporting evidence from the comment section.

“Fine,” Bryce says. “Your surprised face isn’t adorable.”

Jared warily waits for the catch.

“It’s terrible,” Bryce says. “Embarrassing. If I were you I’d never leave this room again—“

Not the height of chirping, but I’m proud of Bryce for managing it without breaking into ‘except it’s amazing, you know it’s amazing right, you know I love your face??’.

Jared is trying to figure out a way to say ‘you should have a nap with me instead of going with our captain to cheer up hospitalised children’ that doesn’t sound monstrous, and he is having a very hard time.

Another great example of Jared taking a moment to think before speaking and therefore NOT saying anything to that effect.

“Yeah,” Bryce says with a sigh, then leans down and kisses Jared’s temple. “Want me to pick up dinner?”

“Sure,” Jared says. “Can you stop by the grocery store? We’re out of almond milk.”

Bryce makes a face.

Bryce offered to do an errand and then you added ANOTHER errand? He can’t do two errands. Jared, you know this about him. One errand at a time. (I would say he could pick up dinner at the grocery store, but Bryce would just make a face, so it is two errands)

“Fine,” Bryce mutters, then tells Siri to remind him to get almond milk. Jared figures there’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll come home with it or dinner, about a five percent chance of him returning with both. Since they currently have leftovers in the fridge, and Bryce can grumble through cow’s milk coffee if needed, that’s fine by Jared.

At least Jared’s considering the odds.

When his phone buzzes he reaches for it almost gratefully, though he doesn’t stay that way, frowning at the I am so sorry from Julius. It could be the start of a prank or something — Julius isn’t a prank person, but then, Jared wouldn’t have said he was a ridiculous bet person either, and look at them now

Julius also isn’t an apology person, which Jared should factor into this.

Fuck, Julius broke up with Erin. Or maybe she broke up with him? Except no, if she broke up with him Julius wouldn’t be apologising. Unless he did something that made it the right call to break up with him, but still, him being the breaker-upper seems more—

And now he has an incoming call from Erin. Jared eyes his phone, refusing to pick it up. He doesn’t know whose side to be on yet.

Jared is the worst. And the best. Hedging his bets for now, waiting for more context before anyone can convince him to show solidarity.

He wonders if it was because Erin bet on the Canucks winning, especially after Jared accidentally blurted that out, made it a public thing. She said Julius was cool with it, but like, Jared would be deeply offended it Bryce bet against him on something.

Julius is getting a delicious home cooked meal out of this, Jared. He could not care less.

so a breakup isn’t a big deal, except for the whole Jaredian implications of things, which really should have been considered more seriously—

This is one of my favourite lines, for Jared unironically creating an adjective for ‘what about ME, guys, have you not thought about ME?’

“Julius is on the phone with his agent, who’s going to call your agent and I guess Bryce’s but he wanted you to know right away but also I think he’s terrified of being the one to tell you—“

Wait back up, Jared didn’t think ‘what about me’ went so far as to involve his agent.

“He didn’t mean to,” Erin says. She sounds miserable, which is frankly sort of terrifying.

Considering she found the last two minor debacles hilarious, not a good sign, but also Jared doesn’t like hearing her upset for…other, familial reasons. Don’t press this.

And someone in the scrum either knew something or just made a joke that was way too close to the truth about Bryce actually being my big brother, like, legally.”

“He’s not your brother,” Jared says. “He’s your brother-in-law, that’s different.”

Jared, she added ‘like, legally’ at the end. How is that not in-law, but with an extra like involved (‘with an extra like involved’ is half the dialogue of this series, thanks to both Jared and Bryce)

“Nothing,” Erin says. “Not like — nothing, but it was the way he said it.”

“The way he said nothing?” Jared says.

“Jared!” Erin says.

“I’m not being oblivious!” Jared says. “You’re not making any sense!”

“You’re so—“ Erin says, then makes a wordless sound of rage.

I see sibling relationships in fiction sometimes with affection and banter and calling each other ‘bro’ and ‘sis’ but frankly, I think ‘makes a wordless sound of rage’ is a good description of how it works on a day to day basis.

(I have never called my brother bro. I have, however, called him broseph, bruh, and ‘wordless sound of rage’)

“I don’t even know,” Erin says. “You try getting a coherent statement out of someone who’s speaking a mix of English and Finnish and terror.”

Try playing broken telephone in three languages, two of which you do not speak, then get back to her.

The clip starts with, “So we hear there’s a certain bet involving a blanket,” which could be directly Jared’s fault, them seeing his interview earlier, or could be the result of the same sort of research on their end.

He. Wore. It. As. A. Cape. Jared.

Twice.

“It must make the rivalry with the Canucks a little more interesting, your girlfriend’s brother on the other side.”

“Jared is a good friend,” Julius says. “And of course we played together. It’s always fun to play him.”

Jared continues to be impressed by just how little personality Julius shows to the media.

What do you want him to say here, Jared, ‘Jared is a petty bitch who stole my blanket’?

“Yes, but Jared said he was not going to get me a Christmas present,” Julius says, which is — okay, Jared did say that, but it makes him look bad.

How dare you directly quote me.

“It must be easier with Marcus out,” someone says. Jared doesn’t recognise the voice, so they probably weren’t on the beat when he was on the Oilers. “Is that going to change the stakes when he comes back?”

“Marcus?” Julius asks, starting to blink rapidly, Halla for confusion, looking a little like a startled owl himself. Jared shuts his eyes.

Julius hates media. It’s not in his first language, and he's been learning English at a breakneck pace in the previous years but still isn’t comfortable in it, there are lights, people are in his personal space, phones and mics are in his breathing space, and the vast majority of the questions he finds to be completely asinine. So when something goes off script it goes VERY off script.

“Well, it’s two against one, right?” the reporter adds. “And you’ve got two protective older brothers on the same team. I don’t envy you those family dinners or those board battles.”

So, Julius, completely overwhelmed at the mo, hears ‘protective older brothers’ and ‘family dinners’ and does not think of a ridiculous article written up some time ago, he thinks ‘fuck’.

So quiet the mics barely pick it up, but with a lot of feeling, Julius says, “Fuck.”

And that’s precisely what comes out of his mouth.

156. Knife Edge

Jared tries to think of what assumptions people are going to make about why Julius panicked, any explanation that could be innocent but still prompt that reaction. He can’t think of any, but then, he can’t think.

Nobody’s thinking straight in this chapter. Except maybe Andreas.

Julius mumbles something. Jared gets ‘sorry’ out of it, but not much else. He doesn’t think it’s Finnish, so this must be the terror Erin was talking about.

This is contrition. Terror was slightly louder and much faster.

“It’s okay,” Jared says. “It’s okay, Julius, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

“You should be,” Julius says.

“Well too fucking bad, I’m not,” Jared says.

Julius is quiet for a long time, other than some too fast breathing.

Julius did not plan for Jared not to be mad at him, and now he’s adrift.

“You’re really not mad?” he finally asks. He sounds very small. It makes Jared want to shake him until he doesn’t sound like that anymore.

No takebacks, please.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jared says. “Bryce’s agent will figure out some semi-plausible excuse again.”

Wishful thinking, maybe, but he’s done it before, so.

“You haven’t looked,” Julius says, “have you?”

OH. Says Julius. He’s not mad at me because he doesn’t know yet. Okay. I will prepare for anger again.

Jared hangs up the phone, then he chucks it across the room. Then, extricating himself from the stupid fucking blanket still twisting around his legs, he goes to retrieve it — safe in a pile of laundry, he’s pissed off, but he doesn’t want to buy a new phone over it — because he has to make some calls, even if he’d really rather not.

Maturity is making sure your phone lands in something soft when you chuck it because you gotta make some calls.

“Can you tell mom and dad,” he says.

“Yeah,” Erin says.

“Thanks,” Jared says, and hangs up while she’s mid-apology. Then texts her Not mad at you just can’t.

Feel you no worries Erin replies.

The Mathesons obviously give each other a lot of shit, but not when it matters (mostly).

Jared tries to calculate when Bryce is going to get home. Depends if he had to make his excuses, wait for a polite time to cut out. Depends on whether he sent his reply from inside the hospital or from the parking lot. Depends on traffic, and — there’s no real way of knowing, but it’s nice to accompany his pacing with some mental math to keep his brain busy so it isn’t speculating on just what’s being said right now, and just how many people are saying it.

Jared will take mental math over helpless speculation any day.

“Yeah,” Bryce says, stone-faced, phone to his ear. His voice is clipped, expression set, so Jared’s going to guess management or his agent. He wouldn’t talk to media or any of the guys right now, and he always looks a little soft when he talks to Elaine, no matter how upset he is. Apparently that’s also true when it comes to Jared, because his face eases into something softer when he meets Jared’s eye.

The two people Bryce drops all his defences around.

“Julius Halla is your sister’s boyfriend?” Summers asks.

“And one of my best friends,” Jared says. “And former linemate.”

He doesn’t care if that sounds petty: Julius is not first and foremost Erin’s boyfriend. And it’s relevant to the situation. Probably.

On the one hand, it is indeed relevant information. On the other hand — Jared.

“Fuck, he’s not funny, is he,” Summers says.

“He is,” Jared says. “But like — in a dry way?”

“Marcus, you think Halla’s funny?” Summers asks. “He make you giggle?”

Bryce looks at Jared.

Bryce is concerned he’s going to get in trouble with someone, and he’s not sure which is worse.

“Stop looking at your husband,” Summers says. “I’m asking you.”

Jesus, no wonder Bryce is terrified of him.

Dave knows the ‘don’t get mad at me’ pause.

“Alright, we’re not doing that then,” Summers says. “Stay by your phones, but don’t answer shit if the call isn’t from me or Greg. If it’s the Canucks, tell them to call me, then get right off the phone. They’re on their side, you understand me? Not yours. Greg and I work for you guys. The Canucks work for the Canucks.”

“If my mom calls and I don’t pick up she’ll—“ Bryce says.

“Jesus Christ, Marcus, you can pick up the phone if your mom calls,” Summers says.

But you just told him he couldn’t! Bryce is so confused.

“Just don’t answer any calls from unknown numbers.”

“Nobody under thirty does that anyway,” Jared says. “Like, just on principle.”

I’d go with under 40 in many cases.

“He calls you Jared,” Bryce says accusingly.

“You do too,” Jared says. “Because Jared is, in fact, my name.”

“How come he doesn’t call you Matheson,” Bryce complains.

Jared pats his wrist. “Bigger problems right now, babe.”

“You’re not even his client,” Bryce mutters.

Bryce knows why you are Dave’s favourite, and agrees, but also: no fair.

“You seem — calm,” Jared says. He also probably seems calm, but he’s balanced on a knife’s edge between eerie calm and complete hysteria right now, whereas Bryce seems legitimately calm. Not happy, but not panicking either. Jared was expecting a lot more panicking.

Bryce has had some time to think between sulks.

“I knew this was a possibility when I signed with the Canucks,” Bryce says.

Also this. When Dave asked him if he still wanted to sign if this was a possibility, and Bryce said yes, that was it. Bryce doesn’t tiptoe into shit, he dives headfirst. He’s been mentally preparing for it to happen since, especially after the team found out.

“Fuck,” Bryce says.

“Yeah,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “Fuck. I forgot the fucking almond milk.”

He also forgot dinner, but I think these are reasonable extenuating circumstances.

157. Conclusive Evidence

It takes awhile to get the hysterical laughter out of their systems. Long enough that Jared has tears in his eyes and Bryce wheezes out a plaintive, “My ribs,” between shuddering breaths.

“Ow,” Jared agrees, thumbing at a tear track on Bryce’s cheek.

“Fuck,” Bryce says. “Fuck, J.”

“Yeah,” Jared says, wipes the tears off Bryce’s other cheek, then lets Bryce haul him in, wrap himself around Jared, tacky wet face tucked against Jared’s neck. It feels half like he’s shielding Jared with his body, half like he’s using Jared to hide. Both are probably equally true.

<3 teammates

They could just order some delivered, he guesses, but and going out and doing something sounds way better than sitting at home trying not to think about, well — anything. There are way too many things currently in the ‘do not think about this’ portion of Jared’s brain, and sitting with his own thoughts feels like tempting fate right now.

Grocery shopping also beats helpless speculation.

Jared’s in and out as quickly as possible, since aimlessly wandering around Vancouver is also tempting fate, gets back back home after barely twenty minutes. He was expecting Bryce to still be on the phone — Bryce and Elaine chats have a tendency to go on for awhile no matter the circumstance — but instead he’s greeted by Bryce hovering right at the door, a little wild eyed.

“What,” Jared says. “Did you think I ran away?”

Intellectually he didn’t, but emotionally: sheer panic.

“I got you a Coffee Crisp,” Jared says, but Bryce has already discovered this, and is happily mulitasking walking the almond milk to the fridge and unwrapping it so he can shove it in his mouth.

It’s a chocolate bar that tastes like very sweet coffee. It was the GOAT of treats come Halloween, and is up there with nanaimo bars, poutine, and all-dressed chips as Elite Canadian Treats.

“You want some?” Bryce asks, belated and reluctant.

“Ate mine on the walk back,” Jared says. He’s a little touched that Bryce is even offering — fuck knows Jared would not share chocolate right now. Bryce, looking relieved, stuffs the remainder into his mouth.

True love right there.

“If it’s paparazzi I’m going to be so mad,” Jared says, as the knock repeats, insistent.

Do they even have paparazzi, really? Like, they’ve got a few irritating beat journalists, but Jared can’t see any of them hunting down their address and knocking on their door to get a scoop.

I feel like there has to be some level of paparazzi in Vancouver because so many TV shows are shot there? But two Vancouver Canucks wouldn’t even be on their radar.

“I brought you a fruit basket,” Stephen says. “And wine. You’re going to want me to be here when you talk things through with your agents. Gabe’s still trying to find a spot — what the fuck is up with the street parking around your building? Take this stupid basket, it’s ridiculously heavy.”

Stephen’s here to save the day with wine and advice. Gabe provided the ride and the snacks.

“Summers said to let him field all the communication with in the meantime.”

“He’s is the exact person you want handling this right now,” Stephen says, sounding approving. “That or his assistant, I know him, he’s very good.”

Stephen and Andreas’ acquaintanceship makes me happy to think about.

When Jared nudges a knee against his, checking in, Bryce gives him a small, tired looking smile, then offers him a piece of chocolate.

<3333 team

“This is not a cat back in bag situation,” Stephen says.

“Such a cruel metaphor,” Gabe murmurs.

I’m with Gabe. Why has the idiom about drowning cats survived to present day?

“General consensus seems to be that you guys were toying with the fans, dropping hints about your relationship to see if anyone would pick up on it,” Gabe says. “That or that you wanted to tell the world but the Evil Flames Management got in the way and the article was your S.O.S. to the wider world but everyone missed it. Those are the two prevailing theories, at least.”

The internet loves itself a conspiracy, and with hindsight, a lot of Jared and Bryce’s stumbles in hiding their relationship look like bread crumbs rather than fuck ups.

But regardless, cat is very much out of bag, stop looking at me, Gabriel, I’m not hurting cats by saying it.”

“You could use a different metaphor,” Gabe says mildly. “A more humane one.”

Love you, Gabriel.

It’s not actually all that late when Stephen and Gabe head out, but between the situation and the information overload Jared’s gotten from Stephen, and Summers, and Greg when he interrupted shoving pizza into their mouths to reiterate most of what Summers had said, except sounding kind of panicky the whole time, well —

Poor Greg. He’s doing this best.

“Is it bad that I feel, I don’t know,” Jared says.

“Relieved?” Bryce asks.

Jared turns his head, meets Bryce’s eye. It wasn’t the word he was going to use, but it feels like the right one.

Other shoe dropped. World didn’t end.

“I never told you this,” Bryce says, “but before he pulled the strings to get me to Vancouver, Summers told me he was going to ask me a question first, and if I said no the entire deal was off.”

Jared rolls over to look at Bryce. It’s too dark to see him, really, but this feels like the kind of conversation to have face to face.

“He asked if I was still willing to come to the Canucks if coming here lead to me getting outed,” Bryce says. “I didn’t even hesitate, J. He couldn’t even finish getting the question out before I said yes.”

Oh Bryce.

“I wouldn’t have hesitated either,” Jared says. “I just — I wouldn’t have either.”

There’s a flash of teeth in the dark. A grin Jared doesn’t even need to see properly to be a sucker for.

“Yeah, babe,” Bryce says. “I know.”

Not a doubt in Bryce’s mind.

[merrybrides]

Delicious Homemade Hot Chocolate

This recipe is made with a combination of cocoa powder and chocolate chips. The cocoa powder adds the distinct “hot cocoa” flavor, and the chocolate chips melt into the mixture making this drink extra creamy, rich and luxurious. A splash of vanilla extract rounds out all that chocolaty flavor and makes this what I consider the perfect Homemade Hot Chocolate.

Homemade Hot Chocolate

Servings: 4 (see note below for smaller servings)

4 cups milk (preferably whole or 2%)

¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

¼ cup granulated sugar

½ cup bittersweet or semisweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate bar

¼ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Place milk, cocoa powder and sugar in a small saucepan. Heat over medium/medium-low heat, whisking frequently, until warm (but not boiling). 

Add chocolate chips and whisk constantly until the chocolate chips melt and distribute evenly into the milk. Whisk in vanilla extract, serve immediately.

SMALLER SERVINGS

2 servings:

2 cups milk

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

¼ cup chocolate chips

⅛ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 single serving:

1 cup milk

1 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

2 tablespoons chocolate chips

1-2 drops vanilla extract

Notes

One of the wonderful things about making hot chocolate from scratch is that you can make it exactly the way you want it!

Want it extra rich? Add some half and half.

Want it less sweet? Use bittersweet/dark chocolate chips.

Want it healthier? Use skim milk or almond milk, and reduce the sugar a touch.

Want flavored hot chocolate? Add cinnamon, peppermint extract, a shot of espresso, or a drizzle of caramel sauce.

The options are endless!

[artemisarticles]

Getting Started

Clear the decks. Take everything out of your pantry, give it a hard look and decide what you can get rid of. Be ruthless. If you haven’t used it in a year, get rid of it.

Keep what looks and smells good. “Expiration,” “sell by,” and “best by” dates are not good guidelines. Some are determined by regulators, others by manufacturers, and almost all are arbitrary. Properly stored, some (unopened) ingredients, like canned fish, can last for years; others, like dried herbs, start declining in quality the moment they are sealed in a container.

Assess what remains. Then organize it according to the logic that makes sense to you: There’s no single best system. Your nut butters might be with the condiments, or the breakfast items, or the baking supplies.

Fill in the blanks with food that will make you a better cook. Each of the pantry lists below is a proposal, not a prescription. There’s no reason to stock black beans if you only like red. There’s no need to have everything here available at all times. You’ll know your pantry is well stocked for your purposes when most of the time, you need only add one or two fresh ingredients to cook one of our recipes from scratch. Or even better, none.

The Essential Pantry

The foundation layer for all three pantries, this is where everyone should start. There’s so much to be done with these basics. The rule here is stock your pantry mostly with what you’re confident using, and what you love to eat. You’ll turn to it again and again.

Oils and vinegars: Extra-virgin olive oil, neutral cooking oil (such as canola or grapeseed), red-wine vinegar, white vinegar or white-wine vinegar.

Cans and jars: Tuna in olive oil, tomato paste, diced tomatoes, tomato sauce, chicken stock or vegetable stock (box-packed tastes better than canned). A good-tasting, simple tomato sauce can become a soup or a stew, or make a quick dinner with pasta or polenta.

Spices and dried herbs: Kosher salt, red-pepper flakes, ground cayenne, curry powder, bay leaves, black peppercorns, sweet paprika, ground cinnamon, ground cumin, garlic powder or granulated garlic, dried thyme and dried oregano. This selection will take you through everything from a basic beef stew to Saturday morning pancakes to Thanksgiving dinner.

Grains and starches: Long-grain white rice, one or two other grains (such as quinoa or farro), dry pasta (one long, one short and chunky), plain bread crumbs, crackers, canned beans (white beans, black beans and-or chickpeas), dry lentils.

Nuts and nut butters: Walnuts, almonds, roasted peanuts, peanut butter (smooth and crunchy).

Sweeteners: Honey, maple syrup, granulated sugar.

Preserves and pickles: Fruit jams and preserves, anchovies.

Condiments and sauces: Basic vinaigrette, mustard (yellow or Dijon), mayonnaise, ketchup, hot sauce, salsa, soy sauce.

Produce: Garlic, onions, all-purpose potatoes (such as Yukon Gold), lemons, shelf-stable tofu (Essential for vegetarians, Expanded for others).

Dairy: Eggs, unsalted butter, cheeses (Cheddar, Jack or Colby, Parmesan), milk or cream for cooking (not skim).

Freezer: Chicken parts, sausages, thick fish fillets, shrimp, thick-sliced bread (for toast), spinach (and other vegetables such as corn and peas), berries (and other fruit such as peaches and mango). Some fruits and vegetables take particularly well to freezing — and in most growing seasons, the quality is better than fresh. Frozen fruit is useful for baking and smoothies.

Baking: All-purpose flour, cornmeal, rolled oats, cornstarch, baking soda, baking powder, pure vanilla extract, light brown sugar, dark brown sugar, confectioners’ sugar, bittersweet baking chocolate, semisweet chocolate chips, raisins or another dried fruit, cocoa powder. With these ingredients on hand, thousands of cookies, brownies, cakes, muffins, quick breads and other sweets can be produced without a trip to the store.

The Expanded Pantry

For the cook who has a grasp of the basics, but wants to be able to stretch toward new options and flavors. Here, long-lasting, punchy ingredients like tahini, hoisin sauce, coconut milk, sherry vinegar and capers are stocked alongside classics: limes with lemons, jasmine rice as well as long-grain, almond butter in addition to peanut butter.

Oils and vinegars: Peanut oil, coconut oil, sesame oil, sherry or balsamic vinegar, apple-cider vinegar.

Cans and jars: Sardines, unsweetened coconut milk, whole Italian plum tomatoes, beef stock (box-packed tastes better than canned). Whole plum tomatoes are rarely called for in recipes, but they tend to be the ripest and best-quality fruit. They can be diced or crushed to use in a recipe — or drained and slow-roasted for an intense topping on omelets, salads, grain bowls or pizza.

Spices: Flaky salt, single-chile powders (such as ancho and pasilla), ground coriander, turmeric, smoked paprika, cardamom, za’atar, allspice, fennel seeds, dry mustard, garam masala (a basic Indian mix of warm spices), five-spice powder (a basic Chinese mix of spices), whole nutmegs.

Grains and starches: Rice noodles, basmati or jasmine rice, brown rice, panko bread crumbs, dry beans.

Nuts and nut butters: Almond butter, tahini, pecans.

Preserves and pickles: Olives (oil-cured and-or in brine), capers in brine. These ingredients, served with good bread and butter, make an elegant appetizer with wine, or everyday snack.

Condiments and sauces: Worcestershire sauce, hoisin, Thai red curry paste, fish sauce, anchovy paste, harissa.

Produce: Russet potatoes, carrots, celery, limes, ginger, avocados, parsley, cilantro, scallions, jalapeños. Keeping chiles, aromatics and herbs on hand gives you instant access to intensely fresh flavors, even for — maybe especially for — the simplest dishes you cook.

Dairy: Plain full-fat yogurt, more intense cheeses (pecorino, feta), salted butter.

Freezer: Pancetta, artichoke hearts, homemade stock, homemade bread crumbs, fresh pasta, vegetables (cauliflower, broccoli, cut and peeled winter squash, chopped onions), cooked grains. Prepared ingredients like chopped onions and cooked grains speed your route to dinner.

Baking: Cake flour, whole-wheat flour, dark baking chocolate, vanilla beans, almond extract, powdered gelatin, molasses, light corn syrup, buttermilk powder, active dry yeast.

The Expert Pantry

For the cook who likes taking global flavors, new methods and viral recipes for a spin. Here, the chiles get hotter, the chocolates darker and the cheeses funkier. These ingredients are just a fraction of what’s out there, but by stocking them, you will be able to cook almost any recipe you come across and experiment with creating your own.

Spices: Hot smoked paprika (pimentón), sumac, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, flaky dried chiles (such as Aleppo, Urfa or Maras), dried whole chiles (like ancho and arból), marjoram, dukkah, baharat, shichimi. Whether you stock spice mixes like baharat (a mix of warm spices used in the Middle East) or shichimi (a Japanese blend of ground chiles and sesame seeds) will depend on the global flavors that most appeal to you.

Grains and starches: Short-grain rice, dried pastas (bucatini, mezzi rigatoni or farfalle), spelt, pearl barley.

Nuts and nut butters: Pine nuts, hazelnuts, pumpkin seeds (pepitas), pistachios. Toasted nuts like these (not as everyday as almond and peanuts) are good in salads and granola, on roasted fish, or just with olives for a classic pre-dinner snack.

Preserves and pickles: Pickled hot peppers, cornichons, kimchi, preserved lemons, roasted chiles, horseradish, caperberries, dried sausages such as saucisson sec and chorizo. The intense flavors of pickled and salted ingredients can be a great pick-me-up for mild dishes. In cooking, you can often substitute a bit of preserved lemon for regular lemon, or use the brine from cornichons as part of the liquid in a recipe.

Condiments and sauces: Gochujang, mango chutney, miso, wasabi, dark soy sauce, Chinese oyster sauce, Asian chili bean pastes.

Produce: Shallots, fresh mint, fresh rosemary, lemongrass, fresh Serrano and Thai bird chiles, fresh bay leaves.

Dairy: Ghee, crème fraîche, aged cheeses (Gruyère, blue cheese). Ghee (Indian-style clarified butter) and crème fraîche can reach much higher temperatures than butter, yogurt and sour cream without burning or breaking, so they are useful in cooking.

Freezer: Edamame, curry leaves, makrut lime leaves, merguez (spicy lamb sausages from North Africa). Fragrant leaves like makrut lime and curry (not the spice mix, but an Indian tree with scented leaves) are much more powerful in frozen form than dried.

Baking: Bread flour, pectin, almond flour, tapioca pearls, rose and orange flower waters, gelatin sheets, black cocoa, currants, fresh yeast, sparkling sugar, pearl sugar, candied citrus rinds

Best Practices

Once you have your ingredients, remember that cooking will always create change and disorder. Cans of tomatoes may never match, spices may never live in matching containers, and your hot sauce collection may always try to take over the condiment shelf. But here are a few final thoughts on how to keep your pantry well stocked and well organized enough to be truly useful.

ORGANIZING TIPS

Cooks with different styles need different systems. Some people store the jam with the dried fruits and maple syrup; others associate it with peanut butter, mustard and mayonnaise. The best logic is your own, and it may take some time to figure that out.

If you can’t see it, you’re probably not going to use it. A storage space with more shelving is the most efficient configuration for ingredients. Drawers or slide-out shelves also help tremendously with visibility.

Store everything you can in clear containers. Airtight plastic ones are best, and available in many shapes, sizes, and systems. Rectangular shapes make the best use of space.

Keep a roll of painter’s tape and some permanent markers in a kitchen drawer. It’ll help you make quick labels.

MAXIMIZING INGREDIENTS

Be realistic about your habits. It’s great to clean and trim a week’s worth of vegetables at once — but if you’re not going to do that, buy smaller quantities.

Buy ground spices in the smallest quantities you can find (except for spices you use regularly). Specialty companies will ship as little as an ounce, about 3 tablespoons. You’ll save space and produce better, brighter flavors in your food.

Buy fresh herbs. Dried herbs used to be a pantry essential, but most start out with very little flavor and lose it quickly in storage. (A couple of exceptions are dried oregano and dried thyme.) Pick up fresh herbs when you need them for a particular recipe; it’s a better investment of money and storage space.

Buy heavy, shelf-stable ingredients like boxed broth and canned tomatoes in bulk; better yet, order them online to save time and irritation. Almost any delivery service or website will offer a better price on these items than a brick-and-mortar store.

Cooked ingredients are much easier to use up than raw ones. Whether you steam, boil, pan-fry or roast, cook anything in your refrigerator that looks tired. You can always use it in a salad, a grain bowl or a pasta.

[postalninja]

Okay, so... what are your top three favourite fancy desserts? :D

Okay, I don't know how fancy anything I've had/made really is in the grand scheme of things, but here are some of the desserts I have made that require a fair bit of work/lots of steps (which I consider fancy) 1. Chocolate almond truffle torte. This is a recipe that I found in a magazine and used to make during the holidays to bring to family dinners as my contribution. It's a two layer chocolate cake, thin and fairly dense, with sliced almonds baked in, and frosted with an almond-flavored chocolate ganache (I've used both amaretto and almond extract for this, both work well). The original recipe also called for chocolate-covered strawberries on top, but I've never bothered with that step, instead topping it with more sliced almonds. Mr. Ninja enjoyed it enough that he once requested it as his birthday cake, AND suggested that I make another one for Christmas a month later! That was too much work for me, though, lol. 2. One year for my birthday, I decided to make this recipe for a chocolate salted caramel tart. I almost screwed up the crust by forgetting one of the ingredients and adding it in later (it turned out fine) and it was the first time I ever made caramel from scratch! It ended up being delicious, but more work than I'm willing to put into a dessert most of the time. 3. I don't know if this counts as fancy, but it's definitely a favorite of mine so I'm going with it - every year for Christmas I make a batch of pumpkin cheesecake truffles! It's like a pumpkin cheesecake filling, but with graham crumbs added into it to make the texture thicker. That gets rolled into balls and dipped in chocolate. The recipe calls for semi-sweet chocolate, which is what I normally use, but last time Mr. Ninja requested milk chocolate (which is also my preferred type of chocolate) and that was even more decadent, so I will probably stick with milk chocolate in the future. These babies are absolutely delectable and addictive, and so satisfying to eat with the hard chocolate on the outside and the cool and creamy pumpkin cheesecake on the inside *drools*

[elluvians]

trying to get my shit together and cook an actual breakfast. I bought almond milk and I'm going to make some crêpes 🥺 about time I dropped dairy completely and changed my dietary choices. I need to start preparing food for myself from scratch instead of eating shit and junk. I have no problem cooking dinner for my bf and I but when it comes to making food for just myself I can't make myself do it. some old ED habits don't help either and I'm really not feeling super good lately so it's time to take care of myself a bit more 😔

[itgetsbetterproject]

🚨 NEW queer series alert!

We paired young people with 4 amazing LGBTQ+ pros in the culinary industry and gave them an assignment - from cooking and creating, to running a juice bar, to designing interiors and accessories!

Episode 1 is JUICY! This week's assignment? Make almond milk...from scratch. 🥛

We visited Super Juiced Oakland, the queer, Black, and Brown-owned organic juice bar, and paired interns Angelica and Kaylena with co-owner Rana Halpern to learn the ropes (and make a delicious smoothie).

You can sub to our Youtube to make sure you don't miss the next 3 episodes.

Making a whole series takes a lot of work - 🌮 BIG shoutout to Taco Bell Foundation for their support in helping us produce this (delicious) series!

[inbetweenimperfectmusings]

Ferrari amaryllis grows in the corners

Of a velvet sofa,

Plush, I push my fingers into its buttons,

Pick up dirt with them and perch on the edge,

Slathering thick perfumed lotion

Smelling like almond milk

Into the inch deep cracks in my heels.

Plucking the petals off

Rich roses

One by one 

They make ripples in the bathwater,

Colour it pink until my eyes stream 

With the cologne,

The discarded stems sit in the corner.

Oh well, I say,

I’ll put you in too.

I let the thorns scratch my cheeks,

And pray the scars will finally give me 

That dreamy rosy glow. 

I end up bandaging my stomach

With the paper thin plasters

Of featherweight poppies,

Picked from a field of half seed-pods,

Which I crush to sweeten my morning

Cranberry juice.

I spend the rest of the day

Soaking my fingertips in scarlet polish,

Squeezing sour cherries in my hand

Until the juice stains the underside of my nails.

I sink into my velvet sofa and wonder

When did it become so red.

Now that it matches the floor

And the walls

I hear it asking again, 

Look at me

Look at me,

Am I beautiful yet? 

[littleblondesoprano]

4! 12! 28! 40! 🤓

<3!!!!!! Thank you!!

4. Favorite 80's/90's tv show/s?

Oh, Full House was my JAM. I would wake up early in the morning to watch that. I also loved In Living Color, 3rd Rock From the Sun, AFV, Reba, Fresh Prince, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel (David Boreanaz still has a place in my heart from that, I had a massive crush on Angel), and I don't remember if it was 90s or 2000s, but I loved CatDog.

12. What are you reading now?

Right now I'm reading: 'Made From Scratch: Reclaiming the Pleasures of the American Hearth' by Jean Zimmerman, and also 'Ghost Hunter' by Hans Holtzer.

28. Share a piece of knowledge?

The earliest manuscript (which actually laid some of the foundations of what we see as a modern novel) that used 2nd person was 'La Montre' (The Watch), written in 1666 by Monsieur Balthazar de Bonnecourse. It was a collection of pose and verse, and was translated from French into English by Aphra Ben. Here's a little snippet:

"Do not rise yet; you may find thoughts agreeable enough, when you awake, to entertain you longer in bed. And ’tis in that hour you ought to recollect all the dreams you had in the night. If you had dreamed anything to my advantage, confirm yourself in that thought; but if to my disadvantage, renounce it, and disown the injurious dream."

2nd person was really rare until the 20th century, the first full novel written in 2nd person didn't appear until 1918, with 'Le Serviteur' (The Servant) by Henri Bechelin - then, it was Rex Stout's novel 'How Like A God' in 1929.

I still remember that from my Master's thesis last January.

40. How do your take your coffee/cocoa/tea?

I take my coffee hot, with almond milk and sweetner! Or, if I make the stop at Starbucks, I get the white chocolate peppermint mocha. Hot chocolate is just with whipped cream and sprinkles :3

[robbybirdy]

Summertime Baking Therapy: #1 Almond Milk

Hello, every birdie!

Almonds, almonds and more almonds. Slowly but surely I am using up all of the almonds that my older brother brought home a few months ago. And believe me when I say that I am not complaining about the amount of almonds that I have. I never thought that I would have been baking with this many almonds.

A few weeks ago my dad came to me and asked me to look at how to make almond milk. I took the challenge, and gave him the result a few days later after a few YouTube videos and a look at the Instant pot Blender manual (not sponsored) that we have.

I was lucky that this blender that we have has a nut milk blending function. And you could most definitely make this in a normal blender.

You dont need that many ingredients for this recipe.

In order to make about 5 cups of almond milk you will need: • 1 cup almonds • 5 cups water ( doesn't have to be filtered) • 1 tsp vanilla • 2 tsp of sugar or 2 pitted dates

The first thing you want to do is measure out a cup of your almonds. And soak them in the fridge overnight. This helps break down the shells a little bit.

The next day, you can make your almond milk. Drain your almonds and add them to the blender. The add in your 5 cups of water. If you want it to be thicker, add less water. If you want it to be thinner then add more water. Add in your flavorings. In my case it was the vanilla and sugar.

Because I have the instant pot ace blender, it has a button for nut milk. And that is what I pushed. It mixes all of the ingredients together for about 4-5 minutes. And if I was using a regular mixer I would suggest mixing on high for the same amount of time. Checking it every once in a while. I mean I did that with my blender because I was not sure how it was going to taste.

Now we are going to grab our "nut milk bag," our cheese cloth, our a very thin dish cloth and we are going to strain the almond milk. You also want to grab a food storage container for the almond pulp. Don't throw them away. I will be posting a few recipes that uses those. Place the milk into a container that can go in the fridge. And now you can say that you have made almond milk.

Don't be surprised it will probably separate in the fridge after a few dats. It is fine all you need to do is give it a stir.

I loved this recipe. I was so easy yo do and it was fun to see everyone's reaction when I tell them that I made it from scratch. And it tasted really really good.

I hope that you liked this recipe.

Feel free to check out the recipe:

Enjoy!

[amypihcs]

Hello my always supportive friends, from our dear Planet of Apes! Yes, I'm in Calabria, in my dad's little town, a place called Sersale. This town is quite a new one, she's 400 years old and stuck on a mountain this makes for very tiny alleys. Enter guest starts my brother, cousin, aunt 1 and uncle 1. Aunt 1 want to go to the cemetery and wants me and brother to go with her. Alright, all the happy fam jump into the car (meriva opel) and uncle 1 has the great idea to TRY A NEW ROAD.

So we start climbing in the older part of the town, god knows how the car manages. We ask then for directions to a lady that directs us to a downright going alley called Via Mazzini. We get into that hoping the Gear will hold and always trusting Uncle 1 (he's great and i love him so much, i trust him in EVERYTHING) the alley... starts... getting... even... tighter. We arrive at the tightest place and start scratching with the side mirrors when two ladies of the town 'ambush' us and start screaming encoring aunt 1 and cousin from inside the car. We are stuck.

Brother hops down from the car to go check if it fits, then uncle1, aunt1 and i hop down. The older lady recognizes aunt1 and they start chatting and catching up on 50 years time they hadn't met. Usual climb up, get some almond milk, chatting in sersalese, recognising and recalling siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews, recognising brother and i as 'your little brother's children, how they look alike!' 'yes, claudio, u' piccirillu, remember him?'.

While they catch up i call first aunt 2 who doesn't answer, then dad. Dad calls uncle 2. Dad and uncle2 get to us, we start laughing. i call aunt 2 'becuase eeeh call her amy!'. Dad, brother and I are sent to the mechanic. The mechanic will take 10 to 15 mins to reach us. i communicate as such to the relatives in loco

The epic trio gets back there. aunt 2 joined the party, they're all chatting and laughing together. After a bit Aunt1 and 2, Cousin and I go away, the men™ stay. While we're make our attempt at the flower shop the mechanic arrives and unstucks the car. Uncle 1 and brother rejoin us on the road.

And we live happily ever after! Only in monkeland!

[buckyismybicycle]

Title: “sugar, spice and everything nice” [AO3 Link]   Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (Bucky x Nat and Bucky x Clint if you squint) Rating: Gen Summary/Notes: Cuddles, Tooth-rotting fluff, outsider POVs, Christmas Cookies, Deaf Clint Barton, Partially Deaf Steve Rogers, Amputee Bucky Barnes

For @cabottombingo - E3: “Didn’t know they were dating” (but not the way you think this is gonna go) @stuckybingo - B1: “AU: Coffee Shop”

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone! Please have some xmas cuddles and floofs. 

💖  OVERALL MASTERLIST

“Hi! Welcome to Purrfectly Brewed!” Janet chirps from behind the counter. She watches a stunning redheaded woman approach, her hand around the arm of a handsome brunette. They might just be the most devastating couple Janet has ever seen.

“Hi,” the woman says, her voice huskier than Janet expected. “Would you be able to make an iced latte with half the sugar, and with almond milk instead of whole milk?”

“Yes, absolutely! Can I get your name?”

“Natasha.”

The man beside her pipes up then. “Look, Nat.” He’s pointing at one of their several kittens, lounging on the arm of a cat tree by the window.

“Her name is Alpine,” Janet volunteers.

“She’s so…” The man trails off, seemingly forgetting what he was saying, though his eyes go soft and Janet has a pretty good idea of what’s happening. He’s falling for the little ball of fluff that’s sunbathing, her tail flicking occasionally.

“Can we also get two large coffees, both black, and a large caramel macchiato with extra caramel?” Natasha asks, sensing that she’s lost her companion to the snowball of fur.

Janet blinks, thrown off by the number of drinks to the number of customers ratio before nodding with her Customer Service Smile on. “Sure thing, coming right up.”

She sets the total, swings the machine around to face them and then hands Hope all four cups with her instructions and Natasha’s name written across them.

There’s a murmur of a language that definitely isn’t English, and she tries not to ogle when Natasha presses a kiss to the man’s temple. Sweet. Loving.

Looking like everything that Janet loves about rom-coms.

When the two leave, it’s Hope that blurts it out first. “Jesus, they’re hot.”

✧

“That was a cute shop, I bet Clint would really like it here,” Bucky says as they leave to walk back to their apartment. “Steve would too, I bet, if he liked cats.”

“Bet you twenty dollars I can get him to go with you in under a minute,” Natasha gloats.

Bucky knows better. He does. But that doesn’t stop him from smirking back. “You’re on, love.”

When they get home, she stands in front of the TV, blocking Steve’s view and signs very clearly. “Bucky fell in love with someone at the new cafe down the street.”

“How?!” Steve exclaims, sitting up and looking at Natasha before he raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “It’s been fifteen minutes, Buck.”

When Bucky opens his mouth to correct Steve, Nat places a finger over his lips. “I think Steve’s just gotta see for himself, don’t you think?”

When it’s settled that Steve will be going to the cafe and turns back to the TV, Bucky signs from behind him. “You evil woman.”

She blows a kiss back at him and he sighs in defeat.

✧

It’s a week and a half before Janet sees them again, and this time Scott is working the cash register. Janet peeks over Scott’s shoulder and spots the same brunette ordering drinks, but this time he’s with a shorter, slighter blonde.

Scott has a laugh with them before handing over two cups with the name “Bucky” on them. She thinks it’s strange, but then again, with Scott’s chicken scratch handwriting it could be just about anything.

She makes a caramel macchiato, and pours a latte with almond milk and half the sugar. Familiar.

“For… Bucky?” Janet calls.

Bucky, presumably, comes to claim their drinks, and doesn’t correct her. “Thanks!”

Huh. Maybe it is “Bucky” after all. Bucky has a very nice smile.

She watches Bucky hand over the latte and take a seat at their table, facing the cat tree. Bucky talks then, but his hands come up to sign, as well. Even though Janet is much too far to make out the words, it’s obvious the story is funny given the way the other man is stifling his laugh behind his own hands before signing back.

Janet thinks it’s so sweet. Had Bucky learned to sign, just for this? He seems so comfortable with it already.

“He’s so in love,” Scott says abruptly, startling Janet out of her thoughts.

She looks at the table again, trying to see what Scott sees. The way Bucky looks at Steve, with bright eyes and a smile to match — the way their feet are hooked around each other’s ankles? Janet has no choice but to agree, though she wonders what happened to Natasha.

“Yeah,” she says eventually. “S’too bad about Natasha, though.”

“Huh?” Scott asks, confused. “I was talking about the cat.”

“OH.”

✧

“Nat tells me you went to scope out Bucky’s new girl,” Clint hollers, hands flying as he signs, giddy. “I want to meet her too!”

“Well… She’s white.”

Clint scrunches his face, furrowing his brows at Steve and looking around the room. Surely, he hadn’t read that right.

At the confusion, Steve doubles over laughing, and can’t get himself straightened out to let Clint in on the joke.

Bucky finally comes over with a picture he’d taken of Alpine while they were sitting down.

“Oooooooooooh!” Clint exclaims. “That makes… Way more sense.”

✧

Hope is wiping down the tables when the chime above the door rings, and she looks up to see Natasha, but this time she’s not with Bucky. Even though Janet had filled her in during their last shift together, it still takes Hope by surprise. The sandy-blonde man, dressed like he’d fallen into a vat of grape juice, has a wide smile on his face and a peculiar band-aid across his chin.

Hope busies herself nearby just in case there's any juicy gossip to share with Janet while Scott handles the order at the counter.

“Two large coffees please, black” the man orders, taking out his wallet to pay, and batting Natasha’s hand away from where she’d been reaching into her bag.

“Easy peasy,” Scott sings, with that charming grin he gives all the customers. “Under what name?”

Even though Hope notices the hearing aid, the man doesn’t seem to miss a beat. “Clint.”

Oooooh. Hope stores that away for later. So, Natasha-not-with-Bucky is Natasha-with-Clint now, and Bucky-not-with-Natasha is Bucky-with-Blonde, it seems.

There’s a handful of people in the cafe right now, most of them are busy petting the cats around the shop, drinks long finished. Hope refills the cat’s water bowls, and when she gets to the cat tree, she stops to pet Alpine.

“These cats are all up for adoption, correct?”

Hope spins around and comes face to face with Natasha, whose green eyes are brighter than emeralds this close.

“Yes! Yeah, they are, of course,” Hope fumbles, watching Natasha’s eyes on Alpine. The very same cat that Hope knows Bucky has been eyeing.

Oh no.

“That’s great to hear,” Natasha says, smiling softly like she isn’t stealing away Bucky’s best buddy at this cafe. “I’d like to adopt this one please.”

OH NO.

✧

“She didn’t!” Janet gasps the moment Hope tells her. Janet’s eyes are wide and she’s got a death grip on Hope’s arm, blunt nails digging in.

“I know!” Hope exclaims. “I felt so guilty giving Alpine to her… Even though that’s exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.”

“But Bucky will be so heartbroken,” Janet nearly wails. “Again.”

“Hey you don’t know what happened between those two,” Hope admonishes, elbowing her friend. “Besides, they both seem… Happy.”

“But Alpine.”

“Oh my god,” Hope huffs, tossing a rag in Hope’s direction. “Go clean something for crying out loud, I can’t look at your pouty face anymore.”

✧

“Oh! Here they come, here they come,” Hope squeals, shoving Janet towards the cash register.

“Oooooh, he’s with Nat’s boyfriend!” Janet proclaims, smoothing her apron down.

“They look cozy together.”

“Stop that! He was just in here with Bucky yesterday,” Janet reminds her. “And they adopted a cat!”

“You don’t know they adopted Liho together,” Hope points out. “Bucky could just be finally taking that step to adopt, now that Alpine is no longer up for grabs.”

“Okay, fine, maybe the cat adoption wasn’t a clear indicator but you know what is? The fact they definitely shared a very steamy kiss.”

“Gee, I didn’t realize you were such a creep.”

“You watch them too, what the f —”

“Shh!” Hope hisses as she scurries back to her machines. “Here they come!”

“No way, he’s not cheating on Bucky,” Janet vehemently denies under her breath, though Hope has long stopped listening.

Janet plasters a smile on her face as the two approach. She watches as the slighter blonde — Steve, Bucky’s boyfriend — gestures with his hands to his companion.

“Uhhh, I forgot to ask Bucky what he wants,” Clint confesses, squinting at the menu hanging above the counter when they get closer.

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him aside a bit before smiling at her. “A large praline latte, large sugar cookie oat latte a — Clint —”

The nudge makes Clint look back down at Steve, who’s gesturing for him to order.

“One extra large salted caramel hot chocolate, please.” He watches Steve’s lips as he rattles off the remainder of their order.

“A large — actually, make that an extra large — caramel macchiato. With extra caramel, please.”

“Spoiling your boy, hm?” Clint asks, and Janet has to fight to keep the smile off her face.

Steve’s look softens as he pays, signing to Clint after tucking his wallet away. Janet desperately wishes she knew what he was saying.

“Ah,” Clint says, as if that explains everything.

Hope is a whirlwind preparing the drinks, so Janet tucks them all neatly into a tray, and tops them off accordingly before they hand the tray over.

“Have a wonderful day!” Janet sings with a bright smile.

“You too,” they reply in unison before leaving together.

“Did you hear?” Janet asks, poking Hope in the side. “He called Bucky Steve’s boy. I told you.���

“Sure, sure, but like, how weird is it that they all know each other?”

“Maybe they all went to school together, there can be a simple explanation you know.”

Hope rolls her eyes and starts to wipe the countertop. “Sure, I guess. Guh, they’re just so cute.”

“We should stop speculating,” Janet suggests, albeit reluctantly. “What matters is that all four of them are happy and they’re somehow together one way or another.”

“I’m sure they’re together. Like all together.” Hope’s eyes sparkle a bit.

Janet gasps, “Oh.”

✧

“You’re worse than Alpine,” Nat says with a chuckle, her hands raking through Bucky’s hair as he lays in her lap.

Bucky closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and mumbling what was supposed to be a protest back at her.

As if on cue, Alpine hops down from the back of the couch and onto Bucky’s hip.

“Easy girl, daddy’s still not feeling well,” Nat warns, scratching under Alpine’s chin to stop her from climbing any further up Bucky’s side.

Bucky whines at the loss and as obnoxious as it is, it gets Natasha’s hand to come back, so he counts it as a win. His prosthetic currently lays on the ground beside him, until he can handle putting it back on.

The telltale click of the lock indicates the return of Clint and Steve, followed by Clint’s hollering, of course.

“HONIES, WE’RE HOOOOOOOME! Oooooh, smells good in here.”

Lucky, who’d been asleep in his bed, bolts up and runs to the door, barking happily while Clint sniffs the air like a bloodhound.

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” Natasha deadpans. “What’d you get?”

Bucky forgives her, this time, for abandoning his petting as she uses her hands to sign. He sits himself up, slowly, to see Clint with a shopping bag in his hand and Steve with a tray of hot drinks from what they've now dubbed as their their coffee shop. A successful trip, it seems.

“C’mon Nat, I can’t just tell you what I got for my lucky giftee,” Clint says with a smile. “But this means I’m not the last to finish my shopping this year!”

Bucky and Nat share a look, as if contemplating whether or not to burst Clint’s bubble. Steve, who’s toeing off his shoes, is suspiciously quiet.

“Aw, seriously?” Clint whines, having seen enough of Bucky and Nat’s looks to decipher it. He turns to Steve, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry?” Steve shrugs with a smile that indicates he’s not sorry whatsoever. He makes his way to the couch, handing out drinks.

Clint throws his hands up in exasperation before going to stash his gift in his room.

Liho chooses that moment to jump up onto the arm of the couch, trying to headbutt Steve’s hand.

“Liho, princess, if you spill this macchiato, Bucky will never forgive you,” Steve chuckles.

“Oh please, Bucky falls for a bat of an eyelash,” Nat teases.

“Hey!”

“She’s right, Buck,” Steve agrees, pressing the macchiato into his boyfriend’s hand.

When Clint re-emerges, he’s all smiles again. “Okay, I may be last, but I have the best gift.”

Bucky, halfway through his macchiato in bliss, doesn’t even argue. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve drops a light kiss to his temple from behind the couch, his hands over Bucky’s shoulders, a little lighter on the left side. “Figured it’d be a rough day with your physio. Feeling okay?”

Bucky drops his head on the back of the couch to look up at Steve with his lips pursed for a kiss. “Could be better.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but obliges. Their kiss is a sugary sweet exchange, chaste as it was, and Steve’s voice is softer after. “Seriously, Buck. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky placates. Then with a smug smile, he adds, “I even got pets from Nat.”

“You never —”

Clint is cut off by Natasha, who’s already predicted what he was going to say. “Yes, I have. When you broke your arm falling out of that tree.”

“She petted you for hours after you slipped mopping the kitchen last year,” Steve adds.

“And,” Bucky chimes in, poking Nat to sign for him as he holds onto his lifeline that is the macchiato. “When Lucky was at the vet’s a month after you picked him up.”

“I hate all of you,” Clint chirps, cheerfully as he returns to his earlier quest of sniffing around. “Did you guys make cookies?”

“Nat made cookies,” Bucky corrects. “I —”

“You helped,” Natasha interjects.

“Yeah, sure, I lent a hand,” Bucky replies with a grin, wiggling the fingers of his right hand.

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh, Natasha rolls her eyes and Clint guffaws in the kitchen so enthusiastically he nearly brains himself on the cupboard.

Natasha tugs at Steve’s sleeve to take her place, brushing Bucky’s hair back as she stands. “You pick first!”

Bucky’s eyes widen at the high honour of picking their first movie for the night. The tradition had slowly morphed over the years, but watching scary movies has always been something they all agreed on.

He jumps off the couch gleefully to grab the remote, knowing exactly what he wants to watch. First, he gets distracted by petting Lucky, then refilling the food bowl for Liho and Alpine, then refilling the water dispenser for Biscuit, Steve’s hamster.

Steve diligently starts to pull the blankets and pillows from their rooms. Since Bucky sleeps with an absurd amount of pillows, it takes him two trips just to bring out what he needs from their room. He lays the blue and white duvet that he and Bucky share out on the floor in front of the couch. Haphazardly tossing the pillows down, he moves on to retrieve Nat’s black and red bedding, then the purple monstrosity Clint claims to be his pillow, blanket and eye mask.

“Nat, get the lights! Where’re the cookies at?”

“Clint’s on cookies!”

“Buck, if you take any longer to find your movie, I’m stealing your turn.”

It’s an affair of cookies, coffee and cushions as they all settle in.

Nat settles into Bucky’s right side, taking the tray of cookies from Clint to spread around. She’s tired from the day, and Bucky knows she likely won’t even make it through the movie.

Steve is careful as he sits on Bucky’s left, doing his best not to lean into the aching muscles there. He instead turns his body in, his hands light as he massages Bucky’s shoulder, where it usually aches the most.

Clint obnoxiously lays across their feet in front of them, feet tangling with Steve’s as he rests his head against Nat’s shins, Lucky dutifully takes his place curled up against Clint’s stomach, wagging tail brushing over toes.

Bucky, surrounded by warmth, surrounded by love, passes the remote to Clint so he can hold his drink again.

“Ready?” Clint asks.

They all give him a few love-taps with their toes, and Clint starts Hereditary.

Halfway through the movie, Nat’s soft breaths in Bucky’s ear tell him she’s asleep, and Steve might not be too far behind. Clint’s munching away on cookies, eyes glued to the close captions.

It’s perfect.

It’s home.

“Love you guys,” Bucky whispers, even though nobody can hear him.