#grape chocolate cookie

[stanley-the-coolest]

Grape chocolate cookie my beloved

[l0nist4r]

Fun little redraw of my ocs as triple baka

Kill me

[grand-zammy]

Nothing special here

Just some...

EMOJI CAKES!!

OMG There's

SO

MANY

CAKES!!!

(it's so hard to pick which ones I like best 😣)

[childofeberron]

happy new year it's time once again for juno's tight as fuck charcuterie spread !!!!!!

[spacebubblehomebase]

Your art looks so yummy and soft it tastes like soft ice-scream with different flavours for each character. GIVE ME MOREEEEEEEEEE

THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPYYY!!! 💙💙💙💙💙

HOW'D YOU KNOW!!!? No one has ever connected those dots for YEARS!!! 👀 See my headline? "With Love Of Every Flavor..." That's something I wrote in my adolescence which I just never bothered to change. It pertains to my posts and how I make them with love (you can cringe), but I also purposely used it to allude to- you literally guessed it- ICE CREAM!!! Which, according to my family, I was infamously obsessed with. STILL super obsessed with actually! (Tho in my defense, the Philippines is hotter than HELL rn.) So yes! I do see my own art as scoops of ice cream. Have been for- again -YEARS! Besides a "space bubble" for introverts -and people who simply love in a different flavor- to feel safe in, that's EXACTLY what I wanted my art to be seen as!!! Which is why I mostly draw sweet things. (Key word: Mostly.) I wanted to convey the giddiness I feel whenever I eat ice cream with my art. So hearing you say that, tho I know naming the taste of an artist's work isn't all that new, really feels like an achievement! THANK YOU!!! ...Okay. Now that you made it this far through my sappy sugar rush induced writing, I know I went off on a tangent, but since ya'll have been really hyping me up lately, how about an update? On my AU? Just a short and sweet reward? Nothing big. Not much lore, but let's saaaaay... it'll beeeee... today? 🫣 Hehe. More, indeed. ^v^ Stay Tuned~! -Bubbly💙

[rabbitcruiser]

National Snack Day

Today is dedicated to eating snacks! Snacks are usually smaller than a meal and often eaten between them. They are sometimes even eaten late at night and called midnight snacks. They can be bought processed or prepackaged, or made fresh at home. They may be unhealthy or healthy. The word “snack” derives from the Dutch word “snacken,” which means to bite. By 1402, the word had appeared in English as a noun.

The first snack food in the United States was the peanut. Peanuts first arrived from South America via slave ships and began being used in cooking in southern plantations. It wasn’t until after the Civil War that their popularity spread north, and they eventually became popular at baseball games and in vaudeville theaters. Snacks such as popcorn, pretzels, and peanuts were seen as being lower-class foods, and were sold from street vendors during the second half of the nineteenth century.

Many snack foods were sold or introduced at the St. Louis World’s Fair in 1904, leading to their popularity across the country. Examples include cotton candy, hot dogs, waffle cones, and hamburgers. Jell-O was also invented around the turn of century, and the 1910s brought us the Oreo cookie and individually-wrapped chocolate Tastycakes.

Snacking gained popularity during the Prohibition era. At this time, pretzels became more accepted. The era of Prohibition and the Great Depression brought us the Butterfinger, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Twinkies, Snickers, Fritos, Ritz Crackers, and Lay’s Potato Chips. Improved packaging made snack foods more popular—they had less of a contamination risk and could more easily be advertised with their visible logos.

During World War II, rationing of foodstuffs such as meat, butter, and sugar was part of the war effort, so not many new snacks were introduced. An exception was M&M’s, which began being produced in 1941 for soldiers overseas. Cheetos are an example of a snack that was introduced shortly after the end of the war. By the 1950s, snacking had become an American pastime. The rest of the century brought us many new snacks: Pop-Tarts, Pringles, Doritos, Hunt’s Snack Pack pudding, Gatorade, Combos, Reese’s Pieces, Fruit Roll-Ups, and Teddy Grahams.

Today, Americans buy 4.3 billion pounds of snack food a year, eating seventeen pounds a person. The most popular snack food in America is the potato chip, which Americans gobble over six pounds a person of each year. The other top snack foods include nuts, microwave popcorn, and corn chips. Today’s holiday was created by Jace Shoemaker-Galloway, the “Queen of Holidays.”

How to Observe National Snack Day

Celebrate the day by eating snacks. It’s not even necessary to eat any meals today; replace them with snacks and try as many as you can. Here are a few common snacks to get you started:

Popular Snacks:

Chips

Cookies

Ice cream

Popsicles

Pretzels

Crackers

Snack mix (such as Chex Mix or Gardetto’s)

Candy

Healthier Snacks:

Fruits and vegetables (may be dipped in healthy dips such as hummus and yogurt)

Nuts and seeds

Whole grain cereals, oats, and granola bars with few added sweeteners

Low-fat yogurt and cheeses

Popcorn without a large amount of salt or fat added

Source

[ssjrodimus]

Shine Muscat Grape Gummy Chocolate - 7-Eleven Premium

Mango Gummy Chocolate - 7-Eleven Premium

Hershey's Freeze Dried Strawberries & White Chocolate - Hershey's

Hershey's Freeze Dried Strawberries & Cookies 'N' Creme - Hershey's

[sysig]

Trust fall (Patreon)

[ashesbijoux]

We will skip ahead a Lil bit with this since it feels appropriate for Valentines day. This is from Mike Lowery' prompt list.

Prompt # 6: weird or fancy charcuterie board

This was so much fun, I've never done a drawing like this with color. I feel like this would make a cute card. I may try a digital version at some point.

[bretzkysbs]

It turns out the cookies are real — sort of.

They are baked at the home of Lara MacLean, who has been a “puppet wrangler” for the Jim Henson Company for almost three decades. MacLean started as an intern for Sesame Workshop in 1992 and has been working for the team ever since.

The recipe, roughly: Pancake mix, puffed rice, Grape-Nuts and instant coffee, with water in the mixture. The chocolate chips are made using hot glue sticks — essentially colored gobs of glue.

The cookies do not have oils, fats or sugars. Those would stain Cookie Monster. They’re edible, but barely. “Kind of like a dog treat,” MacLean says.

Before she reinvented the recipe in the 2000s, the creative team behind “Sesame Street” used versions of rice crackers and foams to make the cookies. The challenge was that the rice crackers would make more of a mess and get stuck in Cookie’s fur. And the foams didn’t look like cookies once they broke apart.

Cookie has been portrayed since 2001 by David Rudman, who took over the role from Frank Oz. Rudman’s right hand moves the mouth, which is eating, and his left hand holds the cookies. Both work in concert to break the cookies, which means they have to be soft enough to fall apart.

Rudman said soft cookies are best, adding, “The more crumbs, the funnier it is. If he eats the cookie, and it only breaks into two pieces if it’s too hard, it’s just not funny,” he said. “It looks almost painful. But if he eats a cookie and it explodes into a hundred crumbs, that’s where the comedy comes from.”

MacLean has perfected a recipe that is “thin enough that it’ll explode into a hundred crumbs,” Rudman said. “But it’s not too thin that it’ll break in my hand when I’m holding it.”

Not every (human) guest realizes that the cookies aren’t meant to be eaten. Adam Sandler appeared on an episode and decided to share in the muppet's delight by spontaneously eating a cookie with him on set.

“As soon as the cameras cut, he was like, ‘Blech!' ” MacLean said.

[l0nist4r]

So i decided to give peppermint some siblings since i mean ,why not? so i made my babies over here ^^

plus a really quick doodle i made yesterday before i finished concord's design

[tailanega666]

I love this cookie 🍪 so much

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ GUILTY AS SIN? | #CL16

pairing. charles leclerc x wolff!reader

genre. angst; some fluff

synopsis. days after you showed up in the paddock wearing charles' shirt, toto wolff is still not talking to you. it tears at you, him, and your relationship with charles. tired of living life scared you'll disappoint toto, you show up to the paddock holding charles' hand.

warnings. none; guest appearances from carlos and george

word count. 3.1k

note. this is the second part to ‘but daddy i love him’. this makes sense if you haven't read that, but reading the first part provides context for a lot of the things happening in this part. i want to write drabbles set in this universe, so if you have requests/ideas, please send them <3

MASTERLIST ; part one ; requests open

LOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY; loving Charles had—since the beginning of your relationship—been as easy as breathing. Until reality eventually caught up. The love you held for Charles had not become more difficult since that fateful moment when you walked onto the paddock draped in Charles’ jacket; everything around it had become more complicated—more difficult—ever since then.

Toto’s voice still rang in your ears; his voice lingered in your mind like an echo you couldn’t get rid of—“Can someone explain why my daughter is wearing Leclerc’s Ferrari jacket?”. You remembered freezing in your tracks, glancing over at Charles—who looked just as much a deer in headlights as you; then Toto’s narrowed eyes. The events which followed passed by in a blur; silence; you opening your mouth to explain; disappointment radiating off Toto; his silent—sharp—”I don’t want to hear it.”. That had been the end of it; Toto had stridden past you and disappeared into the Mercedes garage; Charles had gently placed a hand on your lower back and led you to the Ferrari motorhome, where he left you with a kiss to your forehead and a promise that everything would be okay.

George passed by—he stopped to chat for a few minutes before realising he was late to a strategy meeting and had to sprint across the paddock. Then Carlos walked by, he pulled out a chair opposite you—his navy Williams t-shirt contrasting against the bright red of the Ferrari motorhome—and sat down; he handed you snacks stolen from the Williams motorhome wrapped in a napkin—they were slid over the table as if they were contraband. 

“You know there’s snacks here, right?” You laughed, even though the laugh didn’t reach your eyes; Carlos noticed, he tilted his head, smiling at you.

“Yes, but they’re not as good, no?”

The former Ferrari, now Williams, driver nodded towards the snacks wrapped in a napkin sitting on the table in front of you, encouraging you to unwrap the snacks and eat one—you did. Inside the napkin was an assortment of grapes, chocolate, and cookies; you muttered a thank you to Carlos which he waved off, telling you that it was nothing. He sat there for a while, telling jokes; you tried to laugh at them, but the laughter never reached your eyes; it was all an act and Carlos could clearly tell.

“It’s going to be okay, you know. Toto might be pissed now, but we all know how much he adores you; he’ll accept it eventually.” Carlos’ voice was soft—comforting—as it reached your ears. You pressed your lips together, nodding solemnly.

“What if he doesn’t?” You didn’t want to admit it outloud, but the thought had pierced through every corner of your brain ever since that morning—ever since Toto had stormed off to the Mercedes garage with a “I don’t want to hear it”. Carlos stood up from his chair—he had to go to a meeting which was far less important than you—still, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Then maybe he is not who you thought he was.” 

That had been days ago. You hadn’t spoken to Toto since; it was strange not speaking to him. You had gone back to Vienna after the race; you’d walked by the café you’d gone to with Toto for years ever since you were old enough to ask the barista for a hot chocolate—”Ich hätte gern eine heiße Schokolade, bitte”. A peculiar feeling—longing, perhaps—coursed through your veins, settled deep in the very marrow of your bones, at the sight of the table you and Toto used to occupy being empty. Usually when you walked through this part of Vienna, it was to meet Toto at this café; he would always sit and wait when you walked in—books clutched in your arms—he’d meet you with a smile and a comment about how the books made you forget about life again—that was true sometimes, other times it was because Charles distracted you, made you forget that there was a world outside the bubble which only contained you and him. You never told Toto this; you’d smile at him and tell him that ja, papa, it was the books again. The memory felt faint; the more you tried to reach for it, the fainter it became until it was like a sun faded cassette tape someone had left out in the sun for too long.

You hadn’t seen Charles since the end of the race weekend. You went with Charles to celebrate Oscar’s Grand Prix win with the rest of the grid; your heart hammering in your chest—joy encapsulating you—as Charles wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, kissing you in front of everyone in the middle of the dance floor; he had stuck close to you the entire evening, just as you had stuck close to him––now you were in two different countries, miles separating you. You missed Charles’ presence—his laugh, his small touches. He suggested you come with him to Monaco after the race; you declined, worried that you would inevitably run into Toto there—”Chérie, you can come stay with me in Monaco.” he’d pleaded, almost begged, looking at you; you shook your head, watching as his eyes filled with tears, as his bottom lip wobbled. Walking through the Viennese streets, you regretted every action you had taken, every word spoken, during that exchange. You had spoken to Charles occasionally and briefly ever since; it was as though a chasm had opened between you—one that neither of you knew how to close. The last exchange you had was Charles asking if you were going to the next race—Monza—you’d told him no, claiming that you were buried under schoolwork—that had been a lie; you weren’t buried under schoolwork, you just didn’t want to go to the paddock; didn’t want to face the disappointment Toto’s entire being would exude the moment he laid eyes on you. If you went, you would—for the first time—go as a guest of Ferrari and not Mercedes; there was something bittersweet over it.

Charles waited outside your flat when you arrived back home; he gently pried the bags you were carrying from your hands—warmth bloomed where his fingertips made contact with your skin. He smiled softly at you, muttering a quick “hi”, which you returned; he shuffled into the flat after you, closing and locking the door behind him. His presence in your flat felt familiar—welcome. During the months of your (secret) relationship, Charles spent many days in this flat; playing the pianoforte you never knew why you had—you couldn’t play piano—putting away groceries; laughing; smiling; kissing you whenever he could. Before you could say anything, Charles had slipped out of his shoes; his humming fluttered through the air as he put the groceries away.

“Charles? What are you doing here?” At the sound of your voice, Charles looked up from the grocery bag he was digging through—one hand cradling a bag of flour. He paused, his eyes searching yours. He turned, opening the cabinet you kept your flour in before turning back to you and sighing; his hands flattening against the countertop.

“I wanted to see you. We’ve barely talked since the race and when we have talked, it has been brief. Mon ange, tell me what’s going on; we’re in this together.” Charles’ voice had grown steadily quieter as he spoke; you could only stare at him, blood coursing through your veins, your heart hammering in your chest. Charles took a step towards you, then another, then his arms wrapped around you—his scent surrounding you—one hand placed on your back, the other on the back of your head; pulling you into him. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. The tears flowed slowly at first; Charles didn’t speak, he just held you, waiting for you to speak, even though the feeling of your tears wetting his skin broke his heart—tugged painfully at strings attached to it. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy.

“It’s papa. I love you, I do. I just feel like I’ve disappointed him.” You stumbled through the sentence, unsure of how to express your feelings, how to word them in a coherent—understandable—way. Charles understood; he knew you better than anyone—he would always understand what you were trying to tell him, even though it was veiled, slurred, or incomprehensible.

“You can’t live your entire life scared that you’ll disappoint him. He talks about you all the time when you’re not present; he’s so proud of you, of everything you’ve achieved. This—our relationship—shocked him, but he’ll come around eventually. He’s not unreasonable. I think the way he found out was jarring for him, unexpected. He’ll come around, chérie, I promise.” Echoes of Carlos’ words rang through your mind as you listened to Charles speak. You didn’t want him to be right, but he was—you couldn’t live life scared of disappointing Toto. Charles cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the remaining tears—his touch was soft, gentle, as it always was. You wanted desperately to believe him; your mind screamed at you to forget every worry you had bottled up since you started dating Charles. You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth—gnawing at it. The more you thought about it, the clearer it became that Charles was right; Toto would accept it eventually. He had no other choice.

“Where are you going?” Your voice was still shaky—raw—from crying. You vaguely gestured to the bags Charles had left in your entry. Charles, for a moment, glanced from you at his bags; his hands still cupped your cheeks, your bodies still pressed impossibly close together.

“The race. I just had to see you first, since you’re not coming.” Charles’ voice was tinged with hope—hope that you may change your mind and attend the race with him; there was no one he wanted there more than you. He often joked—as you laid beside him, his fingers drawing patterns on your skin—that you were his lucky charm; he insisted that he performed better whenever you were in the paddock. You weren’t sure you believed that claim. 

“Is it too late to go with you?” Charles’ eyes lit up, his lips widening into a smile as he shook his head, rambling in French—various combinations of “non, mon ange”, “il n'est pas trop tard”, and “j'adorerais t'avoir là”.

If anyone had asked you later what thoughts coursed through your mind as you agreed to go to the race with Charles, you wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer—the spur of the moment decision was inexplicable even to you; perhaps it had been the hope in Charles’ eyes, in his voice; or maybe it had been something else entirely—you were not sure. Charles pressed his lips against yours, pulling you closer. You led Charles down the same hallway he had walked through time and time again, pulling him into your bedroom. He stood by your bed—which he had been in more times than you could remember—putting items of clothing into your open suitcase as you handed it to him.

Standing outside the paddock gates, Charles entwined your fingers. This time—unlike the last—you wore your own clothes. Your heart hammered in your chest; Charles squeezed your hand, smiling softly at you. Whatever happened beyond the paddock gates, you would face together. The entire paddock stilled as you walked through the gates; Carlos smiled at you as he walked by; Charles pulled you closer to him as you made your way across the paddock.

Toto paused as he saw you and Charles walking hand-in-hand through the paddock, smiles plastered on both your faces; he sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temples. He pulled his lips into a thin line, greeting both you and Charles when he walked by you. You stopped, opening your mouth to say something; when no words formed, you closed it; your lips pulled up into a tight smile—Toto would recognise that smile anywhere, it was the same tight smile he wore when he had to be polite. He watched—from the Mercedes motorhome—as Charles kissed you— your forehead, your cheeks, your lips—before running off to a meeting. The day was littered with small, affectionate touches between you and Charles and conversations which left you beaming—smiling so brightly and so much that your muscles hurt.

“This went well?” You looked up at Charles, who had sat down beside you on the couch; he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“It did.” Doubt still gnawed at you; crawling up your throat, clenching around your heart. Toto’s greeting had been brief, but it had been more than you’d talked to him in a week. He looked tired; bags had appeared under his eyes; he looked older than he did the last time you saw him—this was clearly taking a toll on Toto too. Charles pulled you closer to him, slinging his arm around your shoulder; brushing a lock of hair away from your face—you smiled at him, kissing his cheek. You couldn’t help but look over at the Mercedes motorhome—Toto was nowhere to be seen. Charles noticed the glances you would—periodically—throw in that direction; he nudged you gently, his eyes filled with a softness he only held for you.

“What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

“I think I want to go talk to papa.” You gnawed at your bottom lip, your gaze fixed on the motorhome across the paddock.

“Go.” Charles gently urged you. He could see—he had seen, this past week—how much this argument—which wasn’t really an argument—tore at you, threatening to rip you apart. You and Toto had always been close—Charles had discovered this on numerous occasions, from how you talked about your childhood with Toto to how you told him you couldn’t go on a date with him once because you had your monthly coffee date with Toto.

You left the Ferrari motorhome headed for the Mercedes motorhome. Stepping through the sliding doors, you saw George sitting in the cafeteria alone; he looked up as the doors slid open. A smile spread across his lips at the sight of you.

“Welcome back, you here to see Toto?” You swallowed thickly, nodding. George smiled, pointing in the general direction of Toto’s office, “Last I saw him, he was in his office. Good luck!” You shook your head, scoffing at him, muttering something about how you didn’t need luck to speak to Toto; that was a lie—you needed all the luck you could get.

Toto’s head shot up when the door to his office opened; the last person he expected to see stood on the other side of it—one hand clutched the door handle, only letting go when Toto gestured for you to come inside. He closed his computer, folding his hands on top of it.

“Schatz.”

“Hi, papa.” You sank down in a chair opposite Toto’s desk, his eyes followed your every move. On your way over, you had planned exactly what you wanted to say, but as you sat in Toto’s office—Toto sitting opposite you—your mouth dried, every word you had prepared disappearing into thin air; you had never felt like this with Toto—you had always been able to tell him whatever was on your mind. It was a strange feeling; one you didn’t revel in. Toto patiently waited for you to speak—he had a meeting, but you were far more important than the meeting; the meeting could be rescheduled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Charles; I just didn’t know how to. I should’ve told you. I’ve thought a bit since then, and it wasn’t fair to you to find out the way you did.” Toto listened intently to every word pouring from your lips, “I love Charles, I’m not going to apologise for that. Charles is one of the nicest, kindest, people I’ve met and he treats me so well. You don’t have to like it, I’m not asking you to, you just have to accept it and stop being upset with me for, what, falling in love?” Your heart hammered in your chest, sweat beading on your forehead, your hands grew clammy; you tried to wipe them on your jeans, but it did nothing. Toto sighed softly.

“I’m not mad at you for falling in love; I’m upset you didn’t trust me enough to tell me, schatz. I’m upset I had to find out from you walking into the paddock in Leclerc’s shirt.” He looked at you for a moment, before glancing out the window; the Ferrari motorhome was clearly visible from where he was sitting, “I see how happy he makes you; how happy you are when you are with him. He’s one of the better drivers you could have chosen.” He laughed softly, his mouth quirking up into a smile, his crows feet appearing around his eyes. At the sound of Toto’s laughter, you couldn’t help the giggle that burst from your lips. You stood from your chair at the same moment Toto did; he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry, papa.” You mumbled into the white button-up he always wore to race weekends.

“It’s okay. Tell that Leclerc kid that if he hurts you, he’ll have to deal with me.”

It was with much lighter steps that you walked back to the Ferrari motorhome. You found Charles exactly where you had left him—sitting on the couch—only this time, he was playing some game on his phone. He looked up when he heard steps; a smile etched itself across his face, his eyes filling with joy, at the sight of you; he—immediately—noticed a lightness in your steps, one that he had dearly missed. He stood up to meet you halfway—in full view of the Mercedes motorhome—you wrapped your arms around him; Charles had to take a step back to stop from stumbling from the force with which you hugged him.

“How did it go?” He could feel your smile—the smile which he loved so much; which he would do anything to see—break out across your face.

“It went well. I apologised and he said he was never upset at the idea of us dating; he was just upset because of how he found out.” You had to stop, a giggle forced its way up your throat, “he said that if you ever hurt me, you’d have to deal with him.”

Charles groaned, dropping his face in the crook of your neck. You threw your head back, laughter bursting from you at Charles’ ticklish kisses pressed to your neck.

“Good thing I’m not planning on hurting you, then.”

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[rabbitcruiser]

National Snack Day

Today is dedicated to eating snacks! Snacks are usually smaller than a meal and often eaten between them. They are sometimes even eaten late at night and called midnight snacks. They can be bought processed or prepackaged, or made fresh at home. They may be unhealthy or healthy. The word “snack” derives from the Dutch word “snacken,” which means to bite. By 1402, the word had appeared in English as a noun.

The first snack food in the United States was the peanut. Peanuts first arrived from South America via slave ships and began being used in cooking in southern plantations. It wasn’t until after the Civil War that their popularity spread north, and they eventually became popular at baseball games and in vaudeville theaters. Snacks such as popcorn, pretzels, and peanuts were seen as being lower-class foods, and were sold from street vendors during the second half of the nineteenth century.

Many snack foods were sold or introduced at the St. Louis World’s Fair in 1904, leading to their popularity across the country. Examples include cotton candy, hot dogs, waffle cones, and hamburgers. Jell-O was also invented around the turn of century, and the 1910s brought us the Oreo cookie and individually-wrapped chocolate Tastycakes.

Snacking gained popularity during the Prohibition era. At this time, pretzels became more accepted. The era of Prohibition and the Great Depression brought us the Butterfinger, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Twinkies, Snickers, Fritos, Ritz Crackers, and Lay’s Potato Chips. Improved packaging made snack foods more popular—they had less of a contamination risk and could more easily be advertised with their visible logos.

During World War II, rationing of foodstuffs such as meat, butter, and sugar was part of the war effort, so not many new snacks were introduced. An exception was M&M’s, which began being produced in 1941 for soldiers overseas. Cheetos are an example of a snack that was introduced shortly after the end of the war. By the 1950s, snacking had become an American pastime. The rest of the century brought us many new snacks: Pop-Tarts, Pringles, Doritos, Hunt’s Snack Pack pudding, Gatorade, Combos, Reese’s Pieces, Fruit Roll-Ups, and Teddy Grahams.

Today, Americans buy 4.3 billion pounds of snack food a year, eating seventeen pounds a person. The most popular snack food in America is the potato chip, which Americans gobble over six pounds a person of each year. The other top snack foods include nuts, microwave popcorn, and corn chips. Today’s holiday was created by Jace Shoemaker-Galloway, the “Queen of Holidays.”

How to Observe National Snack Day

Celebrate the day by eating snacks. It’s not even necessary to eat any meals today; replace them with snacks and try as many as you can. Here are a few common snacks to get you started:

Popular Snacks:

Chips

Cookies

Ice cream

Popsicles

Pretzels

Crackers

Snack mix (such as Chex Mix or Gardetto’s)

Candy

Healthier Snacks:

Fruits and vegetables (may be dipped in healthy dips such as hummus and yogurt)

Nuts and seeds

Whole grain cereals, oats, and granola bars with few added sweeteners

Low-fat yogurt and cheeses

Popcorn without a large amount of salt or fat added

Source

[daycare-care]

galaxy/Space themed activities

coloring pages

Activity sheets

Quests

Build Your Spaceship

Story: Your plushie crew is ready for liftoff, but the spaceship needs to be finished! Quest:

Make a spaceship out of a cardboard box, blankets, pillows, or chairs.

Decorate it with stars, stickers, buttons, or drawings.

Name your ship! (e.g., "The Cozy Comet" or "USS Snugglecraft")

Bonus: Make control panels with paper and crayons (lots of pretend buttons to press!).

Star Map Seeker

Story: You’re the official star mapper of the galaxy — chart those constellations! Quest:

Look out a window at night or pretend indoors with glow stars.

Draw a star map: connect stars into shapes and give them silly names.

Mark where your spaceship is going next!

Mission Log Journal

Story: Astronaut [Your Name] must keep a mission journal! Quest:

Write or draw what your day in space was like (pretend or real!).

Describe any aliens you met, planets you saw, or snacks you made.

📔 Add Stickers: Decorate your “mission logbook” with stars, planets, or plushies.

Galaxy Ranger Badge

Story: Complete missions to earn your Space Ranger badge! Quest:

Choose 3 missions (from this list or your own).

Make a paper badge or sticker with a star on it.

Wear it proudly or give one to a plushie crew member too!

🎖️ Badge Names: "Snack Officer," "Navigator," "Captain Cozy"

Alien Rescue Mission

Story: An alien plushie is lost on a faraway pillow planet! Quest:

Hide a plushie somewhere in your room.

Follow clues or draw a map to find them.

Bring them to your spaceship and take care of them with food/snuggles.

🍼 Roleplay Add-On: Feed them “space snacks” or wrap them in a blanket!

Moon Camp Snuggle Time

Story: You’ve landed on the moon and it’s bedtime at base! Quest:

Set up a cozy nap spot in a “lunar cave” (blankets or tent).

Bring a flashlight or star projector.

Snuggle with a plushie and listen to gentle music or white noise.

💤 Imagination Tip: Say goodnight to the stars one by one.

Recipes

🍇 1. Galaxy Fruit Wands

You’ll Need:

Blueberries (stars)

Purple grapes (galaxies)

Starfruit or watermelon stars (use a star cutter!)

Skewers or safe sticks

How to Make:

Slide fruit onto your stick in a galaxy swirl pattern.

Add a starfruit piece on top like a magic space wand!

🌌 Pretend Name: “Cosmic Comet Pops!”

🌀 2. Nebula Yogurt Swirl

You’ll Need:

Vanilla or blueberry yogurt

Purple and blue food coloring (optional)

Star sprinkles or edible glitter

How to Make:

Divide yogurt into bowls and mix in galaxy colors.

Swirl together gently (don’t mix too much).

Add sprinkles and call it stardust!

🥄 Serve With: Space spoons (glittery or decorated with stickers)!

🍪 3. Moon Rocks (Snack Bites)

You’ll Need:

Rice Krispies treats or small cookies

White or purple icing

Crushed rock candy or edible glitter

How to Make:

Coat treats in icing.

Sprinkle glitter or candy on top.

Let sit until they look like little moon rocks!

🌑 Little Fun Tip: Hide one and go on a moon rock “mission!”

🛸 4. Alien Toast Faces

You’ll Need:

Bread, toaster waffles, or rice cakes

Cream cheese, yogurt, or nut butter

Sliced fruit (bananas, berries, grapes)

Sprinkles or googly candy eyes (optional)

How to Make:

Spread your base topping.

Use fruit to make a silly alien face!

Add “antennae” with pretzel sticks or cereal loops.

👽 Play Add-On: Interview your toast alien before you eat it!

🌙 5. Planet Popcorn

You’ll Need:

Popped popcorn

Melted white chocolate or candy melts (dyed blue, purple, or pink)

Sprinkles or star sugar

How to Make:

Spread popcorn on a tray.

Drizzle with colored chocolate.

Toss with sprinkles and let cool.

💫 Pretend Name: “Pluto Puffs” or “Meteor Munch!”