#what can i cook with

[whatcanicookwith]

Financiers

[mumblesplash]

uh sir what catering company did you say you’re from again

[becca-e-barnes]

Omg pls do innocent reader begging for PS Buckys load..she just begs saying she wants to be filled and stuffed full of him- I feel like he’d go absolutely feral talking about how he’s afraid of knocking her up but how can he not now after she’s begging for it

Pleaseeeee I haven’t done anything with a heavy breeding kink in months and it’s one of my favourites im gonna lose it 🥵

❤️ PS!Bucky Masterlist Here!! ❤️

Because I love the thought of innocent reader riding Bucky for a change. He’s been cradling your hips in his huge hands and he got you going at a good pace, guiding your movements and mumbling the filthiest praises as you cum for the second or third time

“Fuck, that’s it princess, milk my cock. Your pussy is so desperate for my cum. Pulling out of you is such a damn waste.” He groans, gripping your hips that little bit harder. Every time you’ve been together, he’s pulled out, spilling over your ass or your lower tummy or your tits. It’s force of habit now, he’s done it so many times for the camera and it’s less hassle for you to clean up.

“Bucky please… I’m protected, j-just don’t pull out. Cum inside me Bucky, just this once. Needa know what it feels like.” You pant, your hips still moving, winding down on his length despite how overstimulated you are.

His eyes are wide, watching you with a new level of lust on his face because God, you made it sound so appealing but he knows he shouldn’t.

“Can’t cum inside you, princess. F-fuck what if I knock you up?” He groans softly and he hates how just the suggestion of you being pregnant with his baby makes his dick twitch and his chest swell with excitement

“Don’t care Bucky, oh God. Need to feel you. Need to feel full of you. Wanna feel you drip out of me. Want you leaking out of me at work tomorrow. It’s all I can think about Buck, please.” Never in his life has he heard anyone so desperate for his load. He’s done plenty of cream pie scenes in his time and none of those people have ever sounded as painfully sincere as you do now. His perfect little innocent bunny is begging him to cum inside her and there’s no way he can resist.

“Baby I’m so close, fuck, you sure this is what you want? Not gonna hold back. Gonna make sure you’re stuffed so full you’re overflowing, need you to be sure you want it.” His mouth is watering at the wet sounds of your pussy as you fuck yourself on him, his fingers working your clit so precisely it’s hard to forget his years of practice.

“So sure Bucky. Cum inside me. Gimme it all, baby.” You’re trying your best to hold your orgasm back until he reaches his first and it’s perfect timing as he grips your hips and pulls you down on him, cumming with a beautiful broken groan

You feel everything. You feel him twitching inside you, you feel the rush of cum flooding your body and you feel the excess starting to leak out of you already, coating the inside of your thighs as your own orgasm takes over.

“Just like that, holy shit Bucky, give it to me. Give me every drop baby, please.” Your filthy mouth has him speechless, not able to do anything but throw his head back and moan as he keeps cumming, slightly dizzy from how intense the pleasure is. He loves that he’s been able to nurture this side of you. To the rest of the world, you’re the sweetest, most innocent little thing but only he gets to see how cum hungry you really get for him

[argiopi]

it’s about the little joys amidst the grind for survival

[rollerskate2theface]

Alfred: Remember I’m leaving you with two children, I expect to see two children when I get back, and they better be the same two children because I’ll know

Bruce: I think I’m capable of babysitting

Alfred: Don’t call it babysitting, they’re your children it’s called parenting

Bruce: What the difference?

Alfred: You don’t get paid

[liyazaki]

Cherry Magic : The Food

[moonflowcrr]

;show stopper

‏‏‎ ‎ !! masterlist ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

Florence Pugh x f!reader

⚠︎ pretty actor gets distracted by an even prettier fan. oh dear. ⚠︎

➵ what do you do when a pretty new face turns up on set, and you’re the star of the show? you take them to your trailer and fuck them dumb, of course.

wc ┊ 2776

‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎[ 🕊 ] ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

“

it’s thirsty hours kids, so i tried my hand. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated :3 ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎„‏‎ ‏‏

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎- - - ┊♡ ┊ - - -‏‎ ‎

moss is growing out through the gravel. stubborn clumps of flora that burst trough the loose pebbles, tasting the air and drinking the dew that befalls upon them. it grows and sags and then falls back to the floor.

life, you know, is like that. you're born, you live, you die. it's the course of things. it's beautiful. it reminds you that moments like these really are rare- out of the ordinary. something to marvel and gape at.

the moss is the first thing you see on your  initial few steps onto the ever growing set. wild flowers and many other, wild frantic things. dashing people carrying equipment you couldn't dream of naming, dogs barking and rain falling lightly on a cool morning. there are cameras and kind-faced people, and stars that make the breath in your lungs get stuck. 

you tuck your head down, eyes trained on the gravel. on the moss. you smile. ( they look happy. )

" y/n " you offer as you clasp hands with the grown-ups. you feel eighteen and out of place and stupid, and far far too happy. far too eager for this opportunity. too excited. the director, with his warm hands and red knuckles, smiles a kind smile and you toe at the pebbled ground beneath you. you watch as the tip of your shoe disappears in and out of the tiny stones on the curved road; and you feel underdressed and underprepared and completely out of place. 

yourself and a small group of people had been invited into the set of a still being filmed movie, The Wonder. an upcoming block buster, it had been assured. the cast all seem excited ( nervous, if that ) at the notion that they'll have an audience. so used to performing before a light and camera, never dealing with the reactions until after they were on the screen.

" welcome " says a cast member, and her smile is the best smile you've seen in a long time- you decide. with her head a halo of brunette and her bright hazel eyes, you find your heart fluttering violently against the cage of your ribs, and you jam your thumb into your palm hard in a effort to make it stop. ( it does not. )

your guide shows your little group around the set, weaving in and out of scenes and booths- side stepping muddy puddles and all the while being trailed by the pretty brunette in the baby blue dress. grime had licked at the hem of the skirt, and you feel yourself sad for the destruction of such a beautiful gown. you think these thoughts and avert your eyes, too afraid that if you met her gaze you'd get stuck there. you knew who she was, of course you did, and your skin burns with the knowledge that she's right there. you could reach out and touch her if she were so inclined.

so rather you marvel at gardens and dogs and sad grey skies, instead of staring at her eyes, her lips, the white contours of her throat. until the director calls halt and announces that your group will be sectioned into three for the next part of the tour.

one group will go and watch a scene be filmed, sitting behind the cameras to watch how the magic was made.

the next group would be taken back to the hair and makeup tents, and help the artists get the actors ready for their upcoming scenes.

the final group would go with actors who had a break, and move to the food tent to get some lunch before the three groups were to rotate.

excitement bubbled in your chest as you're sectioned apart from your fellow admirers, and before you know it you're walking back down the gravel path towards the tent that housed the makeup that made the films come to life. ( you hadn't, however, noticed a pair of green-hazel eyes follow your figure as you walked away. )

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

the trailer was what you'd expect it to be, a small caravan sized hunk of metal, larger on the inside than it appeared to be on the out, with minimal windows and a sign to remind those unfamiliar with what was kept inside.

' hair and makeup ' it read on an obnoxious red plank of metal, and you ponder for a minute if the artists inside got the special chairs with their titles printed on the back.

you followed one of the men up the path to the trailer, and the two girls before you practically hung off his arm as they went. you wanted to laugh, or scoff, or make a quip about how easy it was for them to throw themselves at a man simply because he was one of the stars in this film- but you held your tongue for the reason that you too had been caught in a web of brunette for a large portion of the day.

no. you remind yourself stubbornly. there's nothing for you to stare at. she's just a person. don't embarrass yourself.

but wisps of brown hair and baby blue silk danced around your mind, and unknowingly you kept your eyes eager to catch a glimpse of her again.

your little group of ragtags arrived quickly, and before you knew what was happening, before you could process or agree or even begin to understand, she had come and whisked you away. with all her soft brown hair and dress that pulled at your heartstrings, she had come and linked hands and tugged you away from your tour; an excuse ready on her lips but your head buzzing too loudly for you to catch it.

her hand was warm, searing almost, and so soft in your own. a hand crafted perfectly to fit in yours, fingers linked and palms pressed hotly together. absently you thought of how her body would feel pressed against your own, and the thought hit you faster than you were ready for it too- sending an ambush of blood to your cheeks. ( you were sure you'd forgotten how to breathe at this point. either that or her close proximity had literally taken your breath away. )

" i'm Florence, " she breathed, as she pushed open the door to her trailer, pulling you up and along with her. " i'm sorry for dragging you away but- i couldn't keep my eyes off of you and i just had to see you. "

her confession made your blood run cold and you felt as if you could start crying right then and there. your mouth opened and closed dumbly, like a fish gasping for air.

" y/n, " you offered quietly- but her eyes lit up nonetheless. you're acutely aware of the fact her hand is still clasped in your own, and part of you screams to retract the limb as if you'd been burned.

she leads you around the narrow room, and you don't try to hide the awe that paints itself onto your features. the floors are solid oak, with white fleece rugs adorning the length of the room. an open planned kitchen sat neatly at one end, while a divider to- what you can only assume was her bedroom ( and you shudder at the thought of being so close to something so private ) - lay at the other. warm lit sofas and dining chairs filled the space between the two ends, and at the centre of it all stood her. with her shy eyes and nervous mannerisms.

the buzzing in your mind is back, as you trail her with your eyes. she offers you something, tea maybe? and you nod dumbly and sit on one end of the cushioned sofa.

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

you aren't really sure when it happened, how you leapt from the shy admirer to someone who spoke freely, nervously. but Florence listens and Florence nods and Florence is the best thing you've ever seen. you've never known someone so brilliant, so kind, so special, like this woman in front of you. Florence is real and Florence is here and you can't stop talking. once you start, there is no going back. but she silences you with her mouth against yours and a hand pressed sorely to your shoulder, easing you back until your spine hits the plush back of her soft couch, and she is here and she is panting and she is wrapped around you like a fog.

she looks at you in a deliberate fashion, mouth hung open and lips kiss bruised and damp. your heart is a hammer against cloth, and you feel as if every decision, every choice and motive you’ve ever had has lead you directly to this moment. but you don’t allow yourself to overthink- instead you surge forward and kiss her again, and she is kissing you back with every fibre of her being.

she leaves open mouthed kisses on your jaw, working down, and you mewl and whine and squirm beneath her. because by some crazy, wicked, beautiful miracle; Florence has her arms ( her legs. her body. ) wrapped around you and she's pushing you further into this mess. and then she's undressing you and you're sure that this is heaven. her quick fingers make light work of your button down shirt, and it's not long before that item is laying disregarded on the floor, laying beside that damned blue dress. your eager hands find her waist, find the spot that makes her sigh into your skin ( and you burn that sound into your brain. you relish at the fact that you caused that sound. ) and you guide her into rocking her hips against your own. desperately chasing the friction you needed. she seems to notice your struggle, and moves back to stroke a hand down your front- dipping into the valley of your breasts. you shiver like a virgin at the touch, and throw your head back with a shuddered gasp.

it isn't long before she's flipped you both, with you sat squarely in her lap in nothing but your pretty black jeans and lace bra, and she's kissing bruises into your skin and soothing them with her tongue, eyes finding yours. her lovely brunette hair is sex teased and messy, and you note how beautiful she would look in the mornings. she sits bare before you, breasts pebbled in the cool air and your mouth pools at the sight. but she kisses her way back up to your mouth, first neck, then jaw, and then the corner of your lips.

but then she withdraws as fast as she closed the distance and you ache for her to touch you.

" you want this? " she breathed, and the air fans across your cheeks. you want to lean forward and kiss her and shut her up just as she did to you.

" yes, god- fuck please, yes " you exclaim clumsily, throat burning and heart punching a forceful beat against your ribs. and you rock your hips and let a whine escape your throat; and that seems to be all the confirmation she needed.

your mind is reeling, and you think half heartedly about the tour you're missing- or rather, if they're missing you at the tour. but those worries are quickly forgotten as you roll your hips and she attaches herself to your front again in a desperate kiss.

and you kiss her because you're frightened and confused and you don't know what else to do, because her lips are a new form of addiction that you cannot deny.

she tastes like buttermilk and raspberries, and her hands are liquid gold, trailing patterns up and down soft skin, fumbling to remove the remainder of clothes and dipping between thighs slick with want. her fingers are quick, and firm ( and so, so heavenly ) as she toys with the pearl between your legs. light, teasing touches are all she's allowed you, and you whine and ache and beg for more.

you're panting, desperation and need clear in your voice, dripping onto the ground and you think, angry and lustful, that this is how you will die. worked up with want and something darker ( something scarier ), and you're left dry throated and crying.

your muscles are burning, pushed to the edge by touching and kissing and watching yourself fall apart in her eyes ( watching yourself fall apart under her hands ), nothing neat and everything beautiful.

" look at me " she says in the way she does, not a command but direct enough, gentle enough, to get you to listen.

and you do, teary eyed and keening onto her voice ( her praise ).

you try not to get caught up in the way she smiles, teeth showing under pink lips, and her eyes ( young and wild, like a shot of electricity coursing through your body directly to where you need her most ) as they trail you, until finally, finally, her fingers dip between your legs and find the slick on your thighs, pushing past your folds until she's buried knuckle deep in your heat.

slowly, painfully ( and then all at once ) she is moving inside you, her thumb pressed tightly to the swollen bud of nerves- and you want to cry in relief, in thanks, in exhaustion. she pumps her fingers in tandem, and each deliberate thrust, each flex of her trained fingers, sends you reeling and the coil in your stomach tightness dangerously. a feral cry scrapes it's way up your throat and into the air around you, as you practically ride her hand- chasing the relief you so desperately crave.

but, she lets out an airy laugh, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. maybe it's something in the way her accent curls around your name, dark with lust and need and something you can't quite place, how it curls around her version of it- how when she mutters it, when she sighs it, when she laughs it, breathless and raspy and soaked with desire- that it makes you inch closer ( even closer, dangerously closer ) to an edge you know she won't let you fall over.

" please " you cry with nothing of your previous desperate rage, with something like fear and everything like need.

" not yet baby, i'm not done with you yet. "

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ [ ♡ ]

she fucks you like she's trained her whole life to do so, like nothing else in the whole world matters except for hearing your whorish cries bounce around the expensively furnished trailer. she holds you with one hand, the hand not currently pistoning into your wet heat, as she curls it around your back and latches heavily onto an exposed breast. she teases your nipple with her daft fingers, pinching and pulling and all of which reward her with such pretty sounds.

her lips have lain waste to your throat, now decorated with a necklace of bruises kissed into the milky flesh, and something in the back of your mind screams with a careless anxiety. how will you hide this? now that she's made her claim- would you even want to?

blind white heat envelopes you, and your skin bristles with goose flesh as you peer over the cliff edge that is your impending release. you want so desperately to gush over her fingers, to throw yourself over that ledge- to crawl from her lap and sink to your knees and return the favour by burying your face between her thighs and making her see stars; and god you want. you want. you want.

but you need for the coil to snap, and she kisses you so delicately, so love filled. she praises you and you feel that high sneaking up on you and choking you until your eyes roll back and you stutter in your movements, and she paints a wicked smile on her face.

" it's okay pretty girl, you can cum ".

that's all the permission you need as you let the tidal wave wash over you. you shake and gasp and spasm in her arms, and she helps you ride it through. her soft pink lips have made a home on your collarbone, and you collapse against her. tears brim behind your eyes, and on your tongue is loop of grateful praise.

your mind wafts to the moss, the damp bundles of life peering up through the stone. your mind wanders here and you choke back a laugh at the notion that you never would have thought, dreamt, imagined that this would happen.

with arms tired from excretion, and heart still singing in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you push yourself up until your level with her eyes ( her eyes, green and hazel and a forest trapped behind glass ).

“ your turn. ”

[lxffy]

i try not to talk about other animes on here since it’s specifically for one piece, but i couldn’t resist sharing these pictures of my #1 husband as i was rewatching gintama

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Very emotional about the breakfast story in the Gospel of John. Simon, James and John, Thomas, Nathanael, and a few others are out together. Simon says he's going fishing, and the others say they're coming along. They spend all night trying to get a good haul, and they catch nothing. Dawn is breaking, and they see a man on the shore a long way off, but they can't tell who he is. He shouts to them, "You don't have any fish, do you?" They have to shout back a disgruntled, "No." The man replies, "Put the net on the other side and you'll catch some fish!" Maybe they roll their eyes a bit--they're the ones out on the water, and they have been all night, what would he know?--and the fish start flooding into the net.

And John looks at Simon and remembers: this has happened before. Three years ago, before everything changed--that voice had shouted to them the same instruction.

"Simon!!" he says, "It's the Lord!"

And it hits Simon like a thunderbolt. He frantically throws on his coat (he'd stripped for work) and plunges into the water. He'd walked on the water before to meet Jesus, what was swimming a hundred yards? So eager to reach Him he can't wait the few minutes for the boat to come in--and when it gets there, he has to go and help unload the fish anyway. But even those few moments with Jesus are worth the soaking wet robes and the exhaustion. And anyway, He already has a fire going--with some fish of His own. "Come and have breakfast!" He says.

And then they sit and eat together, just like they had done so many times over the past three years, and He's there with them, perhaps gently laughing at Simon, still dripping from his swim, and it's like He never left.

He never truly did.

[enden-k]

undefined

im glad i still had a realm where i gave zhongli and childe a room for themselves ages ago, so i could still catch their lines in the new event akjcbk

i let him taste test seafood and he didnt approve much

but bamboo shoot soup/meat dishes make the dragon praise u huh

meanwhile this absolute sweetheart when i gave him seafood/bamboo shoot soup--

[whatcanicookwith]

Chocolate tempering week was last week and we made chocolate cigarettes. I also finished early and was asked to help the head chefs prepare hollow chocolate eggs filled with truffles for the president and founder of the university.

[causticsunshine]

Let Go of a Prayer - for @momrryfest22!

explicit | artist/writer AU | domestic (married) fluff | some smut | pining (for a baby) | trans + nonbinary harry | pregnant harry | 40(+)k

On nights like these, will he be left to tend to the baby while Louis tidies up his mess in the kitchen, or will he be cooking and cleaning while Louis busies himself with the baby? Or babies? Can’t forget Jay’s track record with twins. And if they are graced with multiples or are able to get pregnant more than once, will their first be old enough by the time their little sibling comes along to help do the nightly tidying, or will he and Louis be juggling two under-fives at once?

In which Harry and Louis are happily married creatives who have been actively dancing around the subject of having children for years, but when Harry's itch for having a baby starts to become unbearable, starting a proper conversation on the matter seems impossible.

moodboard | playlist | original artwork coming soon!

read on ao3

(continuation to be added shortly—see a/n for update!)

[el-im]

breaking news: unendingly tolerant forensics specialist pestered all day by sentimental coworker on account of ‘holiday invented to sell cards to poor bastards’ (but, for some reason, doesn’t resort to kicking him out of the morgue)

happy valentine’s day (from the fbi’s basement) <3 (a ‘card’ for @cptproton!)

[maryellencarter]

So I don't remember if I've mentioned this before, but "overnight oatmeal" is this branded thing that comes in expensive little cups, and I just wanted to mention that it's not specially treated oatmeal in any way.

You can literally just buy a normal canister of oatmeal, dump a serving or so in a bowl, add enough to cover of milk, water, milk substitute, whatever pleases you -- I know I've seen it done with apple juice, I don't think I'd recommend orange juice. Then you stir it up, let it soak in the fridge for 6-8 hours, and you have perfectly edible oatmeal. You can toss in dried fruit, spices, whatever.

In Scotland several centuries ago, this was called "drammach", and you would make it with water when you were on the run, as sometimes happened in old-timey Scotland. It was handy because it didn't need cooking, so your enemies could not find you by the smoke of your campfire. Also a bag of dry oatmeal weighs practically nothing and will feed you for days as long as you have water.

(I hear they just get water out of the sky in Scotland. Can't relate. *desert dweller*)

These days, it's handy because oatmeal is very cheap and reasonably filling, it requires no special cookware, you can prep it in like three gestures (dump - pour - stir), and if you forget it in the fridge for a day or so it's still good and nothing catches on fire. So I thought I'd mention again, in case anybody would be interested and hadn't known, that this is a thing you can do and you absolutely don't have to pay three bucks for a lil half-cup branded container.

[wavebf]

i made your favourite meal for you. i’ve grown used to the taste of tomatoes because i know you don’t like them in your dishes, so i pick them out and take on that burden for you. i ran to the corner store in a blizzard to buy you that candy you like, stood in a bakery line before the sun rose to plead with the baker to give me a loaf of that bread you rave about in the mornings. i danced around the kitchen in the early evening so that you’d have a fresh meal prepared for you when the hours grew dark and you felt the deep sadness in your chest. i sang to the stew i made for you so that when you took that first bite, you’d be able to taste the love i put into it. i adore you, and through that i will create dishes so that you can feel how much i do.

[eijiroukiriot]

various! krbks! i! forgot! to! post! here! YEAH!! they probably work better as one big sketchdump anyway